


Picture Perfect

by TheBookJumper



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: AU - Season 2, F/M, Falling In Love, Felicity Smoak Badass Extraordinaire, Fluff and Angst, I mean slow, Jealous Oliver, Love, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Oliver Queen/Felicity Smoak Angst, Oliver Queen/Felicity Smoak Fluff, Post Episode: s02e06 Keep Your Enemies Closer, Protective Oliver, Romance, Sexting, Slow Burn, There's a maybe-stalker, When I say slow burn, kind of, post-2x06
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-06
Updated: 2018-01-26
Packaged: 2018-07-21 21:55:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 120,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7406446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBookJumper/pseuds/TheBookJumper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She’s not really sure what prompted her to do it.  Okay, that might be a bit of a lie.  Sure, she’s not completely positive of her reasoning, but she would bet Oliver’s fortune that it had quite a bit to do with the four empty bottles of wine littering her countertop and the three other women lounging around her apartment in various states of undress.</p><p>She doesn't want to be cute anymore.  She's sexy and she's going to prove it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey Everyone! I'm new to the Arrow fandom and completely new to the AO3 platform, so please forgive any formatting issues. I've never worked with this site before. Definitely still figuring everything out. 
> 
> As for updating schedules, I make no guarantees. I'm studying for the bar exam, so my life and schedule are crazy hectic, leading to insane bouts of unpredictability.
> 
> Anyway, I don't have a beta, so all mistakes are mine. Let me know if you see glaring issues and for sure let me know if you like it!
> 
>  
> 
> **UPDATE: I've edited the formatting (no content changes - I promise)! I've also posted a Sneak Peek for Chapter 2 on my tumblr account: thebookjumper.tumblr.com. ENJOY!**

# Picture Perfect

### Chapter 1

She’s not really sure what prompted her to do it. Okay, that might be a bit of a lie. Sure, she’s not completely positive of her reasoning, but she would bet Oliver’s fortune that it had quite a bit to do with the four empty bottles of wine littering her countertop and the three other women lounging around her apartment in various states of undress.

Not like that. She was very much into men. There was that one time at MIT junior year, but college was for experimentation, right? Tonight was not a repetition of that night. At all. No – tonight was about spending time with her best friends from MIT, drinking copious amounts of alcohol, and complaining about the perpetual singleness that surrounded their little group.

The Computettes, as they jokingly referred to themselves, were the only four girls in the entire Computer Science program at MIT, so naturally they had gravitated towards one another. While they spanned different years, they had all remained friends post-graduation and made it a point to get together three times a year to catch up. This time, the girls all traveled to Felicity’s apartment with their sleeping bags and bottles of wine to spend a weekend hitting the nightlife scene in Starling.

In fact, they had just returned to Felicity’s apartment after spending the majority of their night in the VIP lounge at Verdant, courtesy of one Oliver Queen. The Oliver Queen that was Felicity’s boss. The Oliver Queen with the perfect abs and the gorgeous baby blues. The Oliver Queen that Felicity was half in love with. Maybe whole in love with. The Oliver Queen that the other girls would just not shut up about.

“ _God_ , I’d like to get a piece of that.” 

“Oh, please, Amy. You’d like to get a piece of pretty much any guy with a decent set of equipment.” Veronica shot back, rolling her eyes at the redhead’s comment.

Amy narrowed her eyes at Veronica, almost menacingly, until she broke into a giggle and responded, “Accurate. Except for the additional requirement that he must also know what he’s doing with said equipment. Otherwise, what’s the point? If I can’t find a serious relationship, I’m at least going to have fun getting into bed with insanely hot men.”

“Well, you’re not going to have any luck with Oliver Queen on that front, Ames. The only bed that boy will be _getting into_ is Felicity’s.” Kara grinned and caught Felicity’s eye. She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively at the blonde. 

“Oh no. _No, no, no._ There will be absolutely no bed time for Oliver. I mean, no time in my bed. Certainly he has a bed time, right? Not that a grown man has a bed time. Or that I would know about it. I’m not his mother. Although, with his mother’s involvement in the Glades thing, I bet she has more to worry about than what time Oliver makes it to bed. If he even makes it to _his_ bed rather than whatever gorgeous, model-like woman he meets at the club. Then I’m sure they have a bed time. Only not for sleeping. And – shutting up now.” Felicity turned beet red. Even though they were her friends, she still couldn’t curb the babbling around them when they brought up a topic that made her nervous.

“Who was closest to 27 seconds in the pool?” Amy questioned Kara and Veronica. Kara raised her hand with a smile and held out her other to grasp the $20 bills being thrust at her. Felicity’s brow furrowed in confusion as she looked between all three of her friends.

“When you were talking with Oliver while we waited outside the club to get a taxi, we took a bet on how long the babble would be when we brought up you sleeping with Oliver Queen. I had 28 seconds. Amy guessed 22 and Veronica had 32. I won. Thanks for that, by the way.” She put her arm around Felicity’s shoulders and kissed her cheek.

“So, when did you start sleeping with him?” Veronica asked while pulling a t-shirt on over her bra. The other girls were all changing out of their club clothes and into their sleepwear while sipping on their glasses of wine, but Felicity’s clothing was all in her bedroom, so she had yet to even remove her heels. 

She turned a brighter shade of red. “We haven’t slept together. We _won’t_ sleep together.”

“But not because you don’t want to, right Lix?” Amy made a show of fanning herself with her hand. “Because _damn_ that boy is fine.”

“He’s also my boss. And so far out of my league. Like in the mesosphere when I’m in the crust.”

“I didn’t hear a denial in there, Lix. Just a lot of excuses. And ones that aren’t true, at that.” Veronica gave her best mom-glare impression. “You are seriously hot. Sizzling. SMOAKING.” She dissolved into drunken laughter.

Felicity pursed her lips. “Tell him that. He thinks I’m _cute_.” She spat that last word like it was a curse. She took a long sip of her red wine. “You know what’s cute? Bunny rabbits, puppies, babies, little sisters. No one wants to sleep with their little sister. Because, ick, right? I mean, Thea’s sweet and all. And actually, Roy totally wants to sleep with her. But that’s because she’s not _his_ little sister and he doesn’t think of her like that. I hope. Because again, ick. UGH – not the point. The point is, Oliver thinks of me as cute. You don’t want to rip the clothes off of cute. You want to screw the Victoria’s Secret Angels, not the pathetic IT girl that can’t stop herself from incessantly babbling about the most embarrassing things.”

“I’m sorry, but that man was undressing you in his mind all night tonight. You cannot tell me he doesn’t think you’re sexy as hell with the way he was looking at you. But, if you think he needs to be told, we’ll do that. Or we’ll _show him_.” Kara smirked and pretended to twirl a mustache on her face, alluding to her evil plans.

“I don’t think I like where this is going.”

“Then drink some more wine. Because this is happening.” Kara scrambled up onto her feet, pushed her wine glass into Felicity’s hands, and ran down the hallway to the spare bedroom where the girls all had their suitcases. When she returned, Felicity downed the rest of the wine from the glass in her hands because Kara was carrying her high-end digital camera.

While all of the girls studied Computer Science in MIT, not all of them had gone onto careers that matched. Amy had paired her Computer Science program with a double-major in Linguistics, and was now developing natural language software for artificial intelligence applications at Apple. She was actually one of the driving forces behind Siri. Veronica was the most recent graduate of MIT and had just accepted a position as part of the website development and cyber security department for Wayne Enterprises.

And Kara. Kara had fought with her parents during her undergraduate to get a double-major in Photography and Computer Science. The compromise was that she had to agree to get her Master’s in “something practical” which is how she’d met Felicity in the MIT graduate program for Computer Science. While all four girls were best friends, Felicity and Kara were the closest because they had entered the MIT Master’s program at the same time. Instead of pursuing that as a career, Kara had focused on her art. Much to her parents’ chagrin, she had done extremely well for herself. She was a rising star in the art world, with most of her photos being urban settings or natural landscapes. Many well-known companies throughout the United States had actually sought her out to take photos for their websites, but she also had many art shows throughout the west coast, where her non-commissioned works sold well, making up the same percentage of her total profit as the commissioned ones. Felicity had actually helped Kara get her first show by hacking an Art Dealer’s calendar and setting up a meeting with Kara to discuss showing her work.

All of that is to say, when Kara brings out the camera, she means business.

She gently set the camera down on the dining room table, ventured to Felicity’s wine rack to pull out another bottle, and opened it. She went around to each of the four women, pouring more into their glasses, and raised her glass to get everyone’s attention. 

“I have an announcement to make and I think this is the perfect time to do it. I actually came into Starling a week ago and have been scouting different locations. I finally found the perfect spot for rent here, and I will be opening my own, permanent art gallery and studio over in the North District. I’m not going to move here or anything, I’ll still keep my apartment in Coast City, but I will be travelling here a little more when I do certain shows. I’ve already moved supplies into the studio portion, along with some furniture and backdrops to use for shoots.”

At this, the other three girls gave a round of congratulatory squeals and hugs. They all extracted promises for invitations to every show, and they drank their wine in a toast to Kara’s continued success.

“But wait! There’s more. I’m going to be doing something totally different from my other works. I’ve wanted to get better at photographing the body for a long time now and that is what I plan on opening my first show in Starling with – a study of the human body.” She glanced at Felicity and gave her a mischievous smirk before continuing, “And Felicity is going to be my guinea pig! Starting now.”

The smile immediately fell off of Felicity’s face as she began shaking her head back and forth, her eyes wide with fear. Completely ignoring the abject terror on Felicity’s face, Kara lunged forward, grabbed her hand, and pulled her up. “Thank you for not taking off your heels yet, Lix, this is going to be awesome.” With that, Kara grabbed her camera off the table, not letting go of Felicity’s hand, and began dragging Felicity with her.

Felicity could do nothing but allow herself to be pulled along through her apartment. Kara began shutting off lights as she went, mumbling to herself about lighting and creating more drama and mystery for what she wanted to do. 

She halted Felicity in the hallway, with the other girls trailing behind to watch whatever was about to happen. Felicity looked back at her friends, eyes pleading with them for a little help. Amy shook her head. Veronica took a little more pity on Felicity and softly said, “Look, it’s not like anybody has to see these if you don’t want. Kara would never show them to anyone if you asked her not to. You might as well let her play around for a bit. Plus, we’ll all model for her if that makes you feel better.” Seeing some of the tension leave her friend’s frame, Veronica added, “Plus, she’s wasted. The pictures probably won’t even come out very well anyway.”

“I HEARD THAT!” Kara yelled as she flicked on the light to the spare bedroom. “My pictures always come out well. Haven’t you heard? I’m _FAMOUS_ for them.” She adopted a British accent for the word famous making all the girls laugh.

Kara returned to the hallway, leaving the door to the spare bedroom hanging open into the hallway as well. She got down on her knees and looked through her camera lens. She took a few test shots to get all of her settings right for the effect she wanted, then stood up, hugged Felicity and nudged her toward the door. “It’s going to be fine. You won’t even see your face for what I have planned for you tonight. Just trust me, Lix. Please?”

Felicity looked into the pouting brown eyes of her best friend. Well, her best friend outside of her boys. Her public best friend? That sounded weird. Maybe she’d had a little more wine than she thought. She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth as she considered the girl before her. Did she trust her? Implicitly. Sighing heavily, she relented. “Fine. But no one sees them unless I approve of it first, deal?”

“Duh.”

Kara pulled Felicity a little further from the door, then directed her to stand with her feet shoulder width apart, heels turned in a bit. She did as she was ordered, and Kara sunk to her knees in the hallway. She heard a couple of clicks. Then Kara had her turn to her side, one foot slightly in front of the other. A few more clicks. They went through a few positions. Then, Kara stopped them, looked through the pictures, and made a few noises of dissatisfaction that had Felicity’s ears burning in embarrassment.

“Stop it, Lix. It’s not you. I just don’t like the poses or the way the light’s hitting your legs. Your legs look phenomenal tonight, by the way. Let me just try one more thing.” Kara came up behind her, positioned her so she was facing the door again, and then bent down to adjust her legs. She had Felicity stand straight up on her right foot with the toe pointed toward the open room, then gently grabbed her left ankle so that it placed slightly behind her right foot, ankles crossed with only her toe touching the ground. Her left leg was slightly bent to accommodate the precarious angle. The heel of her four-inch pumps was lifted another few inches off the ground. Finally, Kara seemed satisfied and told Felicity not to move a muscle.

She bent back down and Felicity heard another round of clicks. There were significantly more this time. Then there was a pause, she could hear Kara mumbling about some adjustments. And then, “OH! Black and white. That’s what this needs.” A few more clicks. 

“Holy shit, Lix. These are hot. I think Amy will agree that they’re SMOAKING.” Kara showed the series of photos to Veronica and Amy who both proceeded to tell Felicity how incredible her legs looked in the shot.

“I’d do you, and we’ve already established that I prefer dick.”

“Thanks, Amy. I think…”

“It’s definitely meant as a compliment, hon. MY TURN!” Amy crawled over in front of Felicity and proceeded to lay down in front of the open door. Kara took turns barking out orders and taking photos of Amy, and then some of Veronica. 

After everyone was tired out, the girls returned to the living room. Felicity smiled at the scene the other three girls made clad in t-shirts, tiny shorts, and fun-colored socks all cuddled together on the floor in front of her sofa. She desperately wanted to join in, but first, removal of clubbing gear was mandatory. 

“Okay guys, I’m going to change, wash my face, and take out my contacts. You know where my movies are, or how to access Netflix if you want. Find something good to watch, and I’ll be back shortly. BUT NO GAME OF THRONES. I’m not caught up yet.” Felicity left the groans behind as she went to go get cleaned up.

Twenty minutes later, holding her hair in one hand at the top of her head and using her other to push her glasses back up her nose, Felicity reemerged from her bedroom into the living room to find Doctor Who playing on her big screen with two girls huddled together on her couch. Wait – two? She was down one. She saw a curly mop of red hair belonging to Amy tangling with the beachy waves of brunette hair that belonged to Kara. She was missing Veronica’s spiky blonde (natural, unlike Felicity’s) head.

“Where’s V?”

Kara turned her head to face Felicity while she answered, “Oh, she just went to the 24-hour CVS down the street to grab a few things that we need. You know, like some Gatorades to replenish our electrolytes, the kettle corn stuff she likes to munch on,” she trailed off and mumbled out, “andaburnerphone.”

“That trick doesn’t work on me. Did you forget I'm the queen of fast-talk? What the hell do we need a burner phone for?”

“To be untraceable. Duh. Didn’t you get a Master’s in Cyber Security along with one in Computer Science?”

“I know that, smart ass. My question is WHY do we need to be untraceable. What are you planning?”

At that, Amy joined in the conversation. “How did the whole photo shoot thing start? You complained that Oliver wouldn’t be with you because he saw you as cute, not sexy. That you weren’t his type and that he didn’t want to rip your clothes off. We’re going to fix that.”

“Wha – How – Huh?”

A knock sounded on the door and Amy jumped up to let Veronica back into the apartment, leaving Felicity to glare at Kara.

Veronica and Amy came back in and Veronica handed out the different bottles of Gatorade she had grabbed. Then she pulled the new phone out of the bag and opened it.

“Guys – burner phones are awesome these days. I grabbed a Samsung Galaxy because I know how you prefer the Android OS, Lix. Sorry Ames – we all love Siri though. If we could take Siri and stick her into Android, we’d be golden. Anyway. The camera is perfect for what we need. 16 megapixels, decent photo editing software. On a phone camera. This is a far cry from when we used to use burners on campus when we did those crazy pranks. Remember how crappy those phones were compared to the actual plan phones? And it’s only been a few years!” 

Amy grabbed her computer from under the couch, opened it up, and plugged the phone in. “I’m just going to do a bit of _personalization_.” She did air quotes. It’s like when Felicity said she would _borrow_ the FBI’s facial recognition software. She began typing quickly onto her keyboard. “And – voila! Now every message will be routed through multiple sources all over the world when sending. I’ve also updated the encryption on the phone, and the lock screen so that if the wrong password is entered more than three times, the phone becomes a pretty paperweight. Plus, I’ve upgraded the delete features so that the memory is overwritten four times with blank space when you delete something from the phone.”

“Thanks for going through all this trouble, V, but I’m not using this phone to contact Oliver.”

All three girls leveled stares at Felicity. “You will.” Kara sounded extremely confident.

“No. I won’t. Seriously. What does it matter if the phone is untraceable if he sees my face. He’s going to know it’s me.”

“That’s kind of the point, babe. You said the problem is he thinks you’re cute. Trust me – you send him pics like this, and that’s not a problem anymore. Plus, from what we all saw tonight, Oliver’s head over heels for you already, so this would just be a push in the right direction. The security measures are so no one else finds out you’re sending your boss dirty pictures.”

“Guys. No. He doesn’t like me like that. I’m not his type. Seriously. He goes for the models. Thin, waif-y types. Stunningly perfect hair, perfect makeup applications. We’re friends. Good friends, which is probably what you saw when he looked at me tonight. He cares about me – sure. But trust me, it’s all very platonic between us. And that’s all it will ever be.”

Kara shrugged, willing to compromise a bit to get the ball rolling on this project. “Fine. Then we’ll torment him with sexy pictures without him knowing who they are of. We’ll be careful to keep all identifying features out of the pictures – no face, lips, hair, industrial piercings – but still send the pictures just to drive him a little crazy. So you can see and know, just for your own peace of mind, that he also finds you sexy. Even if he doesn’t know it’s you. Deal?”

This is the part she mentioned earlier. The wine making it seem like a good idea. Well, the wine and the shots at Verdant earlier. It would be nice to screw with Oliver a bit. And she knew he wouldn’t come to her for help tracking down whoever was sending him dirty pictures. And Kara had a point – it would be nice to know that he found her attractive.

She can’t believe she’s agreeing to this. “I can’t believe I’m agreeing to this. Fine. A few pictures, here and there.” Cue the excited squeaks all around. “We’ll have to time delay some of the messages, too, so he’ll get them when we’re together, effectively ruling me out as a possibility. I never want him to find out about this.”

At Felicity’s acquiescence, Kara grabbed the computer from Veronica and plugged in her camera. She pulled up the pictures she’d taken earlier that night and smiled at Felicity. She copied one of the pictures onto the phone and attached it to a text message. She grabbed Felicity’s phone off the table and pulled up Oliver’s contact info, punching it into the recipient line.

“We’re starting with this one.”

Felicity looked at the picture on the phone’s screen. It did look hot. She nodded her consent.

Instead, Kara pushed the phone into Felicity’s hands. “You do the honors.”

Her hands shook slightly, but she hit the SEND button. The MESSAGE SENT notification popped up on the phone’s LED screen. Felicity’s stomach dropped.

She stared wide-eyed at her friends, wondering how they could have convinced her to do something this insane. The girls removed the phone from her hands and pulled her to the floor where a pile of pillows and blankets had been set up for their adult sleepover. They all cuddled together on the floor and someone started up Doctor Who again. 

  


* * *

Across town, Oliver picked up his phone when it vibrated. He had been trying to sleep on the futon in the lair, but hadn’t been able to get his mind to turn off. Visions of Felicity in that tight, electric blue dress she wore out dancing tonight kept flashing through his head. He ran his hand across his face as he remembered how great she smelled and how badly he had wanted to reach out and touch her, pull her body into his and wrap his arms around her while grinding his hips into hers so she could feel what she did to him, how much he wanted her. He thought about the slender curve of her neck, how badly he wanted to lean his head down and run his lips across her pulse point, then bite down and mark her so every man in the club knew to keep his hands off. But she wasn’t taken, because he was too much of a stubborn jackass to tell her how he felt. Instead, he just pushed her away and had meaningless sex with people like Isabel, only hurting Felicity more. Hurting her to keep her safe. Always to keep her safe. He had to keep her away from him; it was dangerous to be someone he cared for.

Sighing, he sat up and looked at his phone, noticing a media message from a number he didn’t recognize. There was an attachment and he clicked to open it, vowing not to tell Felicity so that he wouldn’t get another lecture on the safety of opening things from unknown senders. He could just hear her saying, “That’s how you get viruses, Oliver,” followed by a 30-second babble about the STDs of the computer world.

He grabbed his water bottle while the message was downloading. The attachment opened. He choked.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To see the photo that inspired this chapter, go to https://www.pinterest.com/thebookjump1732/picture-perfect/
> 
> I'll be posting all of the pictures that inspire each chapter on this Pinterest account.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're back with a whole new chapter!
> 
> So, I have to apologize upfront for this one. It kind of got away from me a bit. The actual chapter I wrote is actually double the length of what I'm posting today, but it was so incredibly long that I felt it really needed to be broken up into two chapters. Unfortunately, this means we're not getting to the next text message picture today. I'm SO sorry.
> 
> On the upside, that means I have most of the next update done already. Picture included. Plus, you'll have a little more insight into Oliver's current mindset to look forward to next time.
> 
> Finally, I just wanted to thank everyone who read the story, left kudos, subscribed, and commented. I was blown away by the warm welcome this story received. Seriously - you guys are awesome, and all of the excitement and enthusiasm you gave me just inspired me to write more. I blame all of you for how out-of-hand my writing got this week. 
> 
> **Don't forget! You can check the[pinterest board](https://www.pinterest.com/thebookjump1732/picture-perfect) to see the photo that inspired the last chapter. Also, you can check my [tumblr](http://thebookjumper.tumblr.com) to see if I've given another sneak peek for the next chapter like I did for this one. **

# Picture Perfect

### Chapter 2

“Get up. We’re going shopping.”

Felicity rolled over and groaned lowly. Everything hurt. She supposed that made sense considering all of the dancing in heels she had done the night before. Sure, she was used to wearing heels all day long because it was expected of her as Oliver Queen’s Executive Assistant. _Blah._ She still hated that she was a glorified secretary instead of working her way up the ranks of the IT department, even though she knew it made sense given their nighttime activities. But, she got to buy new clothes and shoes to look the part. Even wearing them all day for work could not prepare her for wearing four-inch heels and dancing all night.

In addition to her body aches, which were many, she felt nauseated and had a major headache which she attributed to all of the alcohol. The Computettes were a dangerous group to be friends with, that’s for sure. But she was dangerous, too. Even right now she was contemplating murder. Veronica was standing over her, fully dressed, and using her foot to nudge Felicity in the kidney to wake her up.

”Mmmm. How about no?” Felicity grunted and rotated to her other side so the foot couldn’t keep hitting her in the same spot. Veronica laughed and nudged Felicity in the kidney on her other side. Oh, right. People had two of those. Unfortunate.

“Seriously, Lix. Get up. I’m ready, Amy’s in the shower right now, and Kara’s been up and about for an hour. She left and said she’s bringing back bagels. Move your ass, Smoak.”

Ah. Her friends were already up. That explained the curious absence of warmth on both of her sides. When they had fallen asleep last night watching Doctor Who, Felicity had been curled in the middle of the floor with Kara at her back and Amy at her front. Both girls tended to run warmer than regular people, and liked to cuddle Felicity who had the exact opposite problem. They always likened it to putting their faces on the cold side of the pillow.

”Plus, you’re the whole reason we’re going shopping. We need to get you some seriously dirty lingerie so Kara can continue to take naughty pics of you to send to your boss.”

Felicity’s eyes popped open at that, comically wide. “Oh my _God_. Please tell me I’m still dreaming. Please tell me I did not send Oliver naked photos of myself last night. Seriously, V. Help me.”

“Sorry. That definitely happened. But at least they weren’t naked. They were just of your legs in heels. It’s fine. I locked up the phone so he’ll never be able to trace it back to you. Now. Get. Up.”

Wide awake now, Felicity pushed herself from the floor and moved to stand up. Her mind was whirling with all of the implications and what she had let her friends talk her into doing last night. Thank God Veronica had been sober enough to properly encrypt and upgrade that burner phone. Felicity was pretty sure Kara was hammered last night, so there was even a good chance that she dialed the number wrong anyway, and Oliver was none the wiser about the photo. Yes. That was good. Oliver probably didn’t even get it. No need to freak out.

Finally upright, Felicity glared at Veronica. “I’ll go shopping, but not for stuff to wear in those pictures. Actually, no more naked pictures. My legs were naked in those pictures. _Naked_. Not to mention the fact that it’s sexually harassing my boss. Sexual harassment is bad. I’m a bad girl.” Pause. Groan. “Not like a _bad girl_ , bad girl. Just a bad girl. Like naughty.” Ugh. “As in, no presents for Christmas, naughty, not like spank me naughty. Feel free to shut me up at any time, V.”

“Oh no. That was great. I totally videoed that, by the way. I love the way your mind works, Lix. Now, I heard the shower turn off. Go get ready.”

Sighing, Felicity drug her feet into her kitchen and started the coffee maker. She turned to her fridge, extracted a bottle of water, and then grabbed some aspirin from her medicine cabinet. She grabbed four out of the bottle because this felt like it was going to be a double dose of pain killers day. She had been awake for less than ten minutes and was already mortified. Hopefully whatever wrong number they had sent the picture to last night appreciated the view. (Yes, she was sticking to her story about it being a wrong number. It was easier to grasp that than to consider the alternative.) She downed the aspirin then took a few extra gulps of water hoping that the extra hydration would help get rid of her hangover sooner.

With coffee on the way and the water already helping to ease her headache a bit, Felicity padded back to her bedroom to hop in her shower. Stripping off her clothes, she looked herself over in the mirror. The dark circles under her eyes were more prominent than ever, but she knew she could use her moisturizer and concealer to cover those up for the day. Luckily, the bruising on her right ribcage had gone down significantly since the prior weekend when she had missed blocking one of Digg’s attacks during their training session. It wasn’t his fault. He had lifted his leg to try and faux-kick her just as Oliver had stood behind him and pulled his shirt over his head, effectively distracting Felicity from the fighting. Instead of being a normal human being and maintaining her balance through the distraction, Felicity had leaned in Oliver’s direction, losing her balance in the process and landing hard right into John’s knee. He had apologized over and over again, but she assured him she was fine. Oliver had tried to get her to let him examine her ribs, but she brushed him off with a promise she’d go home and put ice on it. “It’s not like there’s anything you can do for bruised ribs anyway, Oliver,” she’d reminded him, causing him to back down.

Testing the water and finding it warm enough, she jumped into the shower. She lathered, rinsed, repeated, conditioned, and loofahed away all of the sweat and grime from the bar the night before, and toweled herself off. All without thinking of shirtless Oliver. Mostly.

She finger combed her hair and put some anti-frizz cream in it, opting to let it air dry to cut down on her time to get ready. She drank some more from her water bottle, then headed into her closet to pick out clothes for the day. Because everyone wanted to go shopping, she had to be presentable for the public, but she also desperately wanted to be comfortable. Looking through her clothes, she spied her favorite pair of worn out jeans. Smiling to herself, she pulled those down off the shelf, grabbed a comfy but cute sweater and threw the outfit on her bed. Crossing to her dresser, she pulled out a matching purple with blue polka dots bra and panty set. Throwing everything on, she checked the mirror once more, put on some eyeliner, mascara, and her trademark bright pink lipstick on her face, and she was ready to spend a gorgeous fall day out and about in Starling City. All in under a half an hour. She bet those models couldn’t do that.

She entered the living room to find Kara had returned with the bagels and Veronica had poured her a cup of coffee in a to-go cup. With everybody ready, they made their way out of Felicity’s apartment and all piled into the red Mini.

When they pulled into the mall parking lot twenty minutes later, Felicity’s bagel and coffee were both completely gone. They went from store to store through the mall, trying on clothes, sharing dressing rooms, and modeling potential clothing options to get honest opinions. Felicity tried not to think of how much she missed this. She hadn’t really made any new friends since graduating, the real danger of being the smartest person in the room, so she looked forward to these three times a year with everything she had. Sure, she had John and Oliver, but they weren’t her friends like these girls were her friends. She tried to picture Digg’s face if she would ever drag him to the mall and ask whether the top made her breasts look bigger. Imagining the horrified shock that would come across his face had her almost in tears laughing in her dressing room.

They had hit pretty much every clothing store in the mall and each of the four girls had found at least a few new additions for their wardrobes. They paused outside the food court and Kara announced, “Just one more store, and then I think we’re done for the day. We should go check out my studio after this. It’s only a ten minute drive from here, I think.” Everyone nodded in agreement with this new plan.

"What store do you want to hit, Kara?” Amy questioned, trying to think of any store they hadn’t already been in.

“Agent Provocateur, of course,” Kara replied flippantly, like it was a silly question. “We have to get some seriously hot lingerie for Lix to wear and send to her gorgeous man hunk of a boss.” Felicity would have done a spit-take if she’d had anything to drink.

“No way, Kara. I can’t afford anything from that store anyway, and even if I could, I would definitely not be sending any of it to Oliver. Not that I would send the actual lingerie to him. What use would he have for lingerie? I suppose he could send it to some woman he actually finds attractive. I meant the pictures of me in said lingerie. Not that he would send pictures of _me_ in lingerie to other women. Obviously. Which there won’t be any of because we’re not doing that.”

“Felicity Smoak. You are gorgeous and sexy and that man would be insane to not find you attractive.” Looking around quickly, Amy zeroed in on a guy wearing a business suit who was exceedingly attractive, and bounded over to him. Felicity, Veronica, and Kara looked on as she animatedly spoke to him and then pointed back towards their group. Then she grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the rest of the girls. “Honest opinion, George. Felicity, meet George. George, Felicity. Would you sleep with her?”

He didn’t hesitate. “Absolutely.” He leered at her in a way that made her skin crawl.

Amy winced apologetically at Felicity. Then she pasted on a fake, bright smile and looked at George. “Thank you! We appreciate your help. You can go now.”

Instead of taking the hint and leaving, George pulled his business card out of his wallet and handed it to Felicity, gently stroking her fingers when she went to take it from him in an effort to get him to leave sooner. Her stomach rolled over, but she quickly hid it behind her own fake smile as she removed the card and her hand from his grip. He coasted his eyes over her body one last time and said, “Call me if you ever need _help_ with anything else.” He leaned in quickly, placed his hand on her ass and squeezed roughly. “Seriously, _anything_.” Just as quickly, he let go and walked away.

Meeting Amy’s hazel gaze, Felicity narrowed her eyes. “Thanks for that, Ames. It’s not a fun Saturday until I get sexually assaulted.”

“Well, now that the touchy feely portion of today is over, let’s see about getting you into some scandalous lingerie, my dear.” Kara tried to diffuse the situation. “Even if we don’t send any more pictures to Oliver, I still need a practice model for my gallery show. _Please_ , Felicity? I need to use you to figure out what poses work, what lighting works, backgrounds, everything so I don’t have to waste my time when I get to the others.”

“Use Amy or Veronica, then. They’re so much more comfortable at this stuff than me, Kara. I bet they’d love to do it. And then Amy would have pics to send to potential conquests, so it would be a win-win.”

Felicity gave desperate puppy eyes to Amy, pleading silently with the other girl to back her up. But just before Amy relented, Kara rationalized Felicity’s pleas away.

“But Amy’s only here until tomorrow, Lix. Then she goes back to Cupertino. Veronica heads back to Gotham. And my studio is here, babe. You’re the only logical choice. I need someone that I’m comfortable with giving directions to and photographing like that. I really need your help, Lix. Plus, I’m totally buying everything since you’re doing me a huge favor.”

Felicity caved. Hard. “Fine. I’ll be your model. But no more pics to Oliver. At all. Are we clear?”

“Crystal. I’ll load them onto an encrypted drive for you and whatever you decide to do with them after is none of my business. Deal?”

Her head tilted down, she took a deep breath, and squared her shoulders. Then she pivoted on her right foot and walked right into the lingerie store.

An hour later, Felicity was certain her face was never going to go back to the pale cream color it used to be. It was going to be lobster red for the rest of her life and then no one would want her, especially not billionaire, vigilante brooders. But they didn’t want her now anyways, so she guessed that was okay. She could still hear his voice telling her he couldn’t be with someone he could really care about. _Could_ care about. Even if he were talking about her, which she was pretty sure he wasn’t, he was explicitly telling her that he did not currently care about her like that. She knew he cared about her in a general sense, somewhere between good friend and little sister. She tried valiantly to quash down the feelings of hurt that remembering his words always sprung in her heart. She was with her friends, she was happy to be there, and she was not going to let this short window of fun be ruined by thoughts of Oliver sleeping with Isabel.

Standing at the checkout counter, Kara paid for four new sets of lingerie for Felicity. Felicity had also found a set that she intended to buy just for herself because when she tried it on, she felt incredibly sexy and confident. It was a deep emerald green number with sheer lace cups in the bra that tied in the back with a satin ribbon rather than the usual hooks, and a matching lacy cheeky panty that made her butt look fantastic. It was actually one of the more demure things she found in the shop, and it was on the clearance rack, but the moment she saw it on, she had to have it. She tried not to think about why that color felt so good to her.

With the Mini full of their new purchases, the girls zipped over to Kara’s new gallery and studio. There was appropriate oohing and ahhing over Kara’s new space. It really was gorgeous and would be the perfect space to hold an art gallery. It took up the two upper-most levels of a six-story building, which typically would have made it a nuisance for an art gallery exhibit, but the views made up for it. Each level had floor-to-ceiling windows across the perimeter of the space and a stunning view of the city skyline. 

The lower floor had dark hardwood floors and exposed brick walls would be perfect for displaying photographs and the layout was open enough that it wouldn’t be difficult to navigate, but with enough wall space provided throughout that Kara would easily be able to hang plenty of her prints for a show. 

But that level had nothing on the upper floor. The same dark hardwood floors and brick walls existed up there, but Kara had transformed the space into an incredible studio. There were a few benches and ottomans, a couch, and a bed, all on rollers to be easily positioned wherever she wanted. She had amassed a large quantity of blankets and sheets with varying colors and textures that could serve doubly as backdrops, if needed. She even had a large, ornately decorated mirror in the space and a jewelry box with various pieces of costume jewelry to be used as props. Surveying the area, Felicity’s eyes glanced upon a set of paints, paintbrushes, and oils. Kara really was prepared for anything.

”Okay, girls. Everybody strip and throw on your favorite pair of lingerie that you bought today. Except you, Felicity. You’re putting on the white one.” Kara’s tone brooked no room for disagreement.

Reminding herself that she had agreed to this and that Kara had offered her complete control over the distribution of the pictures, Felicity steeled herself and began removing her clothes. She blushed crimson head-to-toe as she lifted her sweater over her head, laughing at herself for being silly. It was nothing the girls hadn’t seen before. There had been plenty of nakedness over the years. From helping each other get ready for dates, to drunken stripping out of their clubbing clothes at the end of the night, to that one awkward time Amy had walked into the bathroom while Felicity was showering because she “just couldn’t wait any longer to pee,” and “who cares if the shower door is see-through, it’s just me!”

Veronica looked over at Felicity and exclaimed, “Holy shit, Lix! Is that a bruise? What the hell happened to you?”

Crap. She tried to play it off, “Oh, wow. I had no idea it was that big of an area. It must have been the self-defense classes I’ve been taking.” She’d read somewhere that keeping an element of truth to the story made the lie easier. And technically, they _were_ self-defense classes, kind of. One-on-one classes with a trainer. With a very specific goal of not dying. “It’s pretty faint though, do you think it will be a problem in the pictures?”

Kara leaned down to inspect it. “Well, it’s not great because you’re so pale it’s pretty visible, but it shouldn’t be a problem. You have a really even skin tone, so it will be simple to Photoshop the bruising out of the images. Should be fine.”

Nodding at Kara, Felicity pulled the white lingerie set out of the subtle pink bag with the black bow and ran her fingers over the material. It was silky and smooth and she knew how great it felt on. This set was the tamest one that Kara had picked out for her. She imagined Kara wanted to start her with this set because she knew it would ease her into the modeling scene. Because that’s what she was now, right? A model. Huh. That was kind of surreal to think about. She guessed it didn’t count because she wasn’t getting paid for it, just doing a favor for a friend. That was some kind of sense she could live with.

Over the next three hours, Kara snapped photo after photo of each of the women. Carefully positioning them on the bed, on a bench in front of the window, against the exposed brick walls, and even incorporating some of the different blankets and backdrops. Luckily, Amy and Kara had both purchased a pair of high heels during their shopping excursion, which they gladly let the other girls borrow for some of the pictures. They even made use of a few props, too. Kara had pulled out a long strand of pearls and artfully draped them over their bodies during different poses. There was a white garter that made an appearance at one point as well.

The photoshoot ended when Veronica’s stomach growled loudly and it was decided that food was a necessity. They piled everything back into the Mini and sped back to Felicity’s apartment to drop off their loot before heading out to grab burgers at Big Belly.

Even though they had visited Starling before, the previous trips had never included food from Big Belly, and Felicity was adamant that it was an oversight that _must_ be corrected this time. The four girls found themselves sitting at a large booth laughing and reminiscing on their college days while waiting for their orders to be delivered to their table. 

“I swear I thought that purple color would never come off of your tongue. It was like that for three days!”

“Yeah, I think it looked something like this,” Felicity stuck her tongue out at her friends and, sure enough, it was purple from the grape slushie she had ordered. Just then, an amused cough sounded next to the table causing Felicity to look up with her tongue still hanging out of her mouth. Alarmed blue met amused blue and she could feel the heat spread as her cheeks flushed bright red. When his mouth twitched at the corner in the half-smile that he typically reserved her for babbling rants or unintentional innuendos, Felicity realized her tongue was still outside of her mouth. The burning embarrassment spread as she hastily pulled it back into its home.

“So your tongue can change colors now? Cute trick.” Oliver offered a genuine smile at Felicity and then nodded his hellos to the other women. “Nice to see you lovely ladies again. I hope you enjoyed your time at Verdant last night.”

“We definitely did! It was awesome being on the VIP list and not having to pay for drinks all night. Thank you so much for that, by the way!” Amy flipped her red hair over her shoulders as she looked up at Oliver from under her lashes. “OW!!”

Kara kicked her under the table. She’d be damned if she allowed Amy to ruin the plan of getting Oliver and Felicity to happen.

Felicity was still focused on the _cute trick_ part of Oliver’s greeting. There was that word again. “My tongue can do lots of things, thank you very much. It’s very talented.” _Yeah, that made it better, Felicity_ , she thought to herself. Cue the ramble. “Not like that. I just meant that it does things other than change colors. Like, lick stuff. That’s not any better. I can roll it and make the clover thing with it, too. And it allows me to do what I do best – babble. Which I’m going to stop. Right.” Pause. Deep breath. “Now.”

Oliver was staring at her. His mouth did the twitch again. Then he lightly shook his head and addressed the whole table. “Mind if we join you? We didn’t get much chance to talk last night because the club was so loud, and I’d really like the chance to get to know you all a little better. Any friend of Felicity’s is a friend of mine, and all that.”

“Absolutely. We’ve already ordered, though. So decide quickly because if you delay our food from getting here, Veronica might overthrow the kitchen and we do _not_ want that. Lives ruined. Bloodshed. It won’t be pretty.”

Kara nudged Veronica playfully and threw her arm around her.

Oliver and Digg sat down at the ends of the booth while the girls squeezed closer together to make room. Digg took his place next to Felicity and patted her on the shoulder, trying to calm her down from her tongue-related slip-up, leaving Oliver next to Kara on the other side of the table. With a slight smile at Felicity, Digg introduced himself to the other girls. “I’m this one’s –“ he indicated Oliver, “bodyguard and driver, and I’m this one’s – “putting his arm around Felicity, “friend, when the rest of you aren’t available. Being on Oliver’s payroll has really brought us closer together. Misery loves company, right?”

Everyone laughed. Everyone except Oliver. Instead, his eyes narrowed at Digg. And if he was looking at Digg’s arm around Felicity rather than at Digg’s face for the comment he made, no one noticed. Except Digg, who smiled knowingly at his boss.

“Anyway, I was there last night and got to see you all, but unfortunately couldn’t get around to meeting you, so I feel privileged to get the chance now. Especially because you can give us all the dirt on this girl as a college student! She doesn’t share much of those days.”

Kara piped up. “Oh, there are so many good ones. Where should we start, Lix?” She laughed at the glare on her friend’s face.

Oliver tilted his head, almost like a puppy, and a soft smile slid across his lips. He looked at Felicity questioningly, “Lix?”

Veronica jumped in with the explanation. “That’s her nickname. At first she was Lis, because who wants to say Fe-li-ci-ty all the time.” She drew out the name to make her point. “Then one day in the first semester of classes, one of the teachers had a problem with his presentation which wouldn’t properly function on his Linux operating system and Felicity jumped up and fixed the whole issue right there in the middle of class. I think it took her a minute tops. From then on, instead of Lis, everyone called her Lix because of her showing up our professor on his own Linux based system. Lix because it’s closer to Linux. Get it? It just kind of stuck.”

“That was Mr. Garrett’s class, right? That guy was a huge prick. He deserved whatever you gave him, Lix.”

Veronica beamed at Felicity. “Oh, he got it. Believe me. I think he was Felicity’s first black hat hacker project.” Oliver and Digg settled their curious eyes on Felicity, waiting for explanation.

“What? He tried to give me a C in that class because of my _‘attitude.’_ All I did was send a few e-mails from his personal account. Nothing horrible.”

“Didn’t one of those e-mails inform his wife that he had been tested at the clinic and that the results said he had gonorrhea? And another one sent to the Dean of the Department that called him a scruffy-looking nerfherder?”

“Maybe.”

Digg snorted. Oliver smiled and shook his head.

“OH! What about the time that Mike told everyone he’d slept with you after you turned him down for the millionth time and you set his computer to play the Peanut Butter Jelly Time video over and over again when he tried to open his final exam presentation. You even programmed his computer so that a hard boot wouldn’t work. He had to actually remove the battery from his laptop to get it to stop.”

Oliver smirked at Felicity, “Look at you, you little rebel.”

Felicity rolled her eyes. “Well, it’s not peeing on a cop car..”

There was a chorus of “wait, what?” and “Oliver peed on a cop car?” from her friends and Felicity raised her eyebrows in challenge at Oliver and then nodded at her friends, replying, “Yeah, Oliver had his fair share of scandals himself.”

This prompted the story exchange of a lifetime. Oliver would share one of his previous exploits and one of the women would respond with one of theirs. Even Digg contributed a few less-than-stellar moments from his Army days. Throughout the night, Felicity would swear she could feel Oliver’s eyes on her, but every time she’d look his way he was looking at someone else. It was starting to unnerve her. She looked up at Digg, hoping he could read the question in her eyes. He just shrugged back at her, having no idea why Oliver was acting that way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed it! Look for the next update sooner rather than later because it's mostly done. And I promise a picture for next time.
> 
> Also, there will be a plot mixing in at some point. So keep an eye out for that. 
> 
> I loved getting all of the speculations for the last chapter. If you want to send more ideas and predictions, feel free! We'll get to see who's right soon!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter only four days later! I hope the wait wasn't too long.
> 
> If you're new to reading this story - WELCOME! I'm so glad you're here and I hope you choose to stick around. If you've been reading, thanks again for all of your comments, kudos, subscriptions, and general love. Hearing what you all think of this story and how much you're getting into it makes me happy and definitely encourages me to write!
> 
> On a serious note, let's talk updates. I know this one is coming to you fast, but the bar exam is in a little over a week, so my studying is ramping up. I will do my absolute best to get you the next chapter as quickly as possible, but please be patient with me.
> 
> Now - ON WITH THE CHAPTER!

# Picture Perfect

### Chapter 3

Oliver frowned at the silent conversation between Felicity and Diggle. They did that a lot, communicating with each other just through a pointed look. It made him feel left out of some special secret and he hated it. He hated that there were things Felicity would tell Diggle that she wouldn’t share with him. It had happened a few times before the Undertaking, but he’d noticed it happening more and more since his return from Lian Yu. Apparently something had happened during those months and the two had solidified their friendship while he was away.

Hearing John say that he was her friend when her girlfriends weren't around brought to mind all of the times Felicity and Diggle had gone to lunch together, mostly when he was stuck in some business meeting or other that he couldn't get out of, and he knew that they occasionally got dinner together while waiting for him to finish playing Oliver Queen CEO for the day before joining them in the foundry. He'd never thought about it much before, but putting them all together now in his head, he realized they routinely shared meals together. Without him. Meals that he was sure were not spent in silence. Meals where Felicity was sharing more of herself with John, having conversations the contents of which he would never know.

The thought tugged at his heart.

Whatever John told her with that silent look, Felicity did not seem to take it well. He watched as her lips turned downward into a small frown and a crease formed between her eyebrows as she knitted them together. He had reached for his glass of water to stop himself from reaching across the table to rub the worry line away. He sighed lightly. He was having impulse control issues today. 

He saw Felicity’s lips start moving and he marveled that her lipstick was still perfect, even after they had consumed almost their whole meal. He was so distracted by them that he missed the actual words she spoke, only hearing the tail end of her sentence. “—it was a lemur, V. I’m sure of it.”

“That’s _right_! You were singing ‘I like to move it, move it’ all night.”

“I was drunk.” 

“Which only made the zoo’s directors angrier when we brought the lemur back the next day.”

Oliver had no idea what they were talking about, having been lost in his head with his thoughts of Felicity, but the mental picture of a hungover Felicity carrying a lemur back into a zoo made him laugh. An actual, outright, full-bodied laugh. How long had it been since that had happened? Felicity looked at him with an odd expression on her face. Being an expert in the many contortions of that face, he should have been able to identify the emotion, but the closest word he could think of was _awe_.

He smiled back at her. He could feel his face softening as he met her gaze. Fuck. He needed to get himself under control. He couldn’t let her realize that he had feelings for her. It was bad enough that he had hinted that she could be someone he would want to be with and care a lot about after the Isabel fiasco. The pained face she made as she told him he deserved better than the woman he’d carelessly slept with in Russia still haunted him at night. That look was one he never wanted to see cross her face again, especially not because of him.

He needed her in his life, which meant he needed her safe. Being with him was not safe. If someone found out that Oliver Queen was the Arrow and she was his girl, they would use her against him. She could be hurt or killed purely because of his alter ego. Hell, the same could happen simply because of his identity as Oliver Queen. Hadn’t he and Tommy been kidnapped and threatened right after he had returned from the island? It could easily be Felicity in Tommy’s place next time if they were together.

“It’s getting kind of late and some of us have early flights to catch tomorrow, so we should probably be heading back to Felicity’s place.” Veronica looked at her watch and informed everyone that it was getting to be close to midnight.

“How have we been here that long? Seriously. We got here around eight.” Felicity looked down at her phone for confirmation of the time. He watched her, smiling softly to himself upon realizing that she trusted her tech more than her friend’s words. How like her. Then she turned to him with wide eyes. “I’m so sorry that we’ve kept you out this long. This cannot be how you wanted to spend your Saturday night.”

This was exactly how he’d wanted to spend this night. In fact, he’d tracked her phone earlier so he could show up where they were for dinner and whatever they did after. He’d fully expected the group to want to head back out in the club scene, and he wanted them to go to Verdant again. He tried to tell himself that it was because he wanted to show Felicity how much he appreciated her by giving her a nice weekend with her friends, and that was definitely one of his reasons. But another, much larger, reason was completely selfish. He wanted to get to know her friends and he wanted them to like him, and associate good times with his club. With him. He craved their approval, even though he simultaneously swore to himself that nothing could ever happen between him and his Girl Wednesday.

“Felicity.” He loved saying her name. The girls were crazy; he would say her full name all day long, but he couldn’t tell _them_ that. “This was fun. I am actually surprised that you all aren’t going back out tonight. It’s Saturday. Prime dance night. If you all want, we can head back over to Verdant for a few drinks before you give up on the night completely.” He looked at each of the women hopefully, trying to get one of them to agree to this plan so he could spend more time with their group. He didn’t regret his decision to not go on patrol this weekend at all. It wouldn’t have felt right without her voice in his ear anyway. Plus, he got to learn so much about her from this dinner, more than she would have ever shared on her own. It was completely worth it.

“No. This is what we normally do. We fly in Friday afternoon, paint the town red that night, then spend Saturday hanging out, eating greasy foods,” Amy motioned at the empty plates still littering their table, “go home and have a marathon of one of our favorite cancelled TV shows while eating more completely unhealthy foods, get undressed and have a sexy pillow fight,” she winked at Felicity, “and then head back home the following morning.” Amy gave Oliver a critical once over again, then looked at John the same way. “Come to think of it, if you two would like to join us for our pillow fight later, I’m sure we could make that work.”

Even though he knew Amy was just messing with him, thinking of Felicity stripped down and engaging in a pillow fight with other girls was doing horrible things to his mental state. Rationally, he knew that girls did not actually have pillow fights in their underwear at sleepovers, much to the disappointment of his fifteen-year-old self's dreams, but that mental picture would not leave him alone. Amy knew what she was doing, obviously. Trying to bring himself to a point where he could form coherent sentences, Oliver offered a tight smile at Amy. “As much fun as that sounds, I don’t think Mr. Diggle and I would dare intrude on the last night of your girls’ weekend any more than we already have.”

At this, they all moved to stand up from the booth. Oliver and Diggle obviously exited first, and Oliver sent up thanks that he had been on the opposite side from Felicity because it gave him the perfect opportunity to check out her legs while she slid out from the booth.

He frowned upon seeing them covered in jeans. As the girls had already been seated when he and Digg had crashed their dinner, he hadn’t been able to see what Felicity wore on her bottom half, but he had assumed that it would be some variation on her typical skirt and heels. While he loved the way she looked in casual clothes, especially those well-loved jeans that she currently had on that had holes in the thighs allowing him glimpses at the skin of her thighs, he wanted to look at her bare legs to see if they matched the picture he had received last night.

 _God _, that picture. Those legs in those heels had plagued his thoughts and then his dreams when he’d finally managed to get to sleep. Initially, he had been absolutely positive they belonged to Felicity. He’d definitely spent enough time looking at her legs whenever he could guarantee she wouldn’t catch him that he thought he’d be able to recognize them. Unfortunately, this meant he got to view them less often than would be his preference. But last night, he’d been studiously avoiding looking at them because it wasn’t just Felicity he had to worry about catching him. Her friends could see him even when she wasn’t looking, and he didn’t want them to start encouraging a relationship between her and him. It was already hard enough to restrain himself. The last thing he needed was Felicity making it more difficult on him because her friends told her she had a shot.__

He knew that Felicity had feelings for him. There was absolutely no way any person with half a brain could have missed that. The way she stared at him on the salmon ladder, her eyes sending hot licks up his back, would have been enough of a hint. But, when that was coupled with her reaction to the clusterfuck that was Russia, he knew it ran deeper than pure lust, which terrified him. Most women lusted after him because of his body, his wealth, and his piercing blue eyes. He knew he was attractive. But Felicity really _knew_ him. Knew the man underneath the embellished Ollie persona. Knew the vigilante. Knew the struggling CEO. Knew who he really was. And still liked him and wanted him for that man. Not just for the other reasons, but because she genuinely liked _him_.

Because of his complete avoidance of her legs the previous night, he couldn’t remember exactly what shoes she had worn. The picture showed gorgeous black pumps, but he recognized that the majority of women at the club were probably wearing black heels, and he was no good at telling one designer from another. That was Thea’s realm. But her legs. He knew she had incredible legs. Toned, creamy, with gorgeous curves on her calves. The same as the ones in the picture. They were definitely hers.

But then he got to thinking. If they were Felicity’s legs, that meant Felicity had sent him an incredibly sexy picture. His Felicity. The sweet, girl-next-door Felicity, who babbled on incessantly until she reached an innuendo, who blushed pink when she reached it, whose blush deepened to bright red when she couldn’t stop herself from making the innuendo worse. The girl could not handle bringing up anything sexual around him or Digg. He thought about how adorable she was, how innocent. What was the line in that movie Thea had forced him to watch with her? _The perfect combination of sexy and cute_. Felicity was exactly that. He thought about how she was the exact opposite of a girl who would send sexy pictures to a man on her phone.

That last reason especially had convinced him that it couldn’t be Felicity, regardless of how much he wanted it to be. Felicity did not send incriminating pictures like that to _anyone_. It didn’t matter that you couldn’t see her face. Oliver specifically recalled her reaction when the hundreds of nude celebrity photos were hacked off of the cloud. She had gone off on a diatribe about internet security and dirty pictures and why you never put anything like that in anyone’s hands because you never know who else can access it when it gets sent through public airwaves. She’d even capped her rant off with a demonstration of how quickly she could hack into Oliver’s phone to access his files. Then finished by taking a deep breath and informing them she was “getting off of her soapbox now.” She’d even made a side-stepping movement with a dip to imply that she had stepped off of it.

The point was, Felicity didn’t do things like this. She made it a point to keep her data footprint as low as possible because she knew first-hand how easy information was to get, and how easy it was for information to be used against someone. That alone made up at least half of her job description for their vigilantism. And truthfully, as his Executive Assistant, too, now that he thought about it. Her whole life revolved around finding and using information that other people didn't want her to have, so she was always extra-cautious when it came to information about herself. Hence the reason why, even though he and Digg were her best friends in the city, as she had told them both on multiple occasions, neither of them really knew much about her past. Well, at least _he_

Then there was the fact that the photo was sent from a number that was definitely not Felicity’s, but he’d never seen her with a second phone. He’d even had to go through her purse one time to locate her epi-pen after the Thai restaurant they’d ordered food from had used peanut oil on the noodles, despite his repeated reminders of her peanut allergy, and there had most definitely not been a second phone in there.

All of this amounted to the fact that it was not Felicity in that picture, no matter how badly he wanted it to be her. He convinced himself that the reason he’d thought they were her legs was because he _wanted_ them to be hers. An incredibly hot photo of the woman he couldn’t get out of his head? He’d have to be dead to not want that.

As convinced as he was that it was not Felicity in that photo, it didn’t stop him from wanting to use the picture as a reason to check out Felicity’s legs some more. Purely for comparative purposes, just to make sure he was right. But she was wearing jeans.

Suddenly Felicity’s legs moved out of the way, and a bare set of legs replaced them in his line of sight. Looking up, he noticed Felicity had moved out of the way to let Amy scoot out of the booth. That girl had nice legs, too. Not that he was checking her out. Just, she had objectively nice legs. They could have been the ones in the photo, too. Damn. Now that he was looking at them, he realized how alike two sets of legs really were. When there were no distinguishing characteristics like moles or scars, it was nearly impossible to accurately identify someone just from the backs of their legs, right? _Then why did his mind immediately jump to Felicity when opening the picture last night?_ He pushed that thought to the back of his mind. He’d convinced himself it wasn’t Felicity and he was sticking to that.

Oliver settled the check, to the protests of everyone around him. He only got away with it by insisting it was his treat for allowing him and John to crash their dinner. He made sure to leave a great tip for their server considering how long they had occupied her table, not allowing her to turn it over and get tips from other customers for probably her entire shift.

A cool rush of air smacked him in the face as he opened the door and held it for the group of women to exit. It had been a warmer fall day considering that it was mid-October, but the night had brought a colder chill to the atmosphere. Felicity’s friends started heading to the left, while he knew that Diggle had parked the car to the right. The realization left him with a sense of disappointment over the loss of the chance to walk with her. Felicity held back from her friends and turned around to face them, blue eyes shining up at him.

“Thank you both so much for hanging out with us tonight. Everybody really likes you guys, I can tell.” She playfully smacked Oliver’s shoulder, lightly admonished him for thinking he had to pay, then wrapped her arms around herself as she bid them goodnight, and turned to walk away.

Before she could get too far, Oliver asked her if she wanted his jacket because she seemed a little bit cold. He got to watch the blush spread across her cheeks again, for what probably constituted the hundredth time that night, and smiled as he realized that sight would never get old. She politely turned him down, thanking him for the offer, but reminding him she lived close by so she wouldn’t be cold for long. “Plus, we can’t have _you_ catching a cold. Just think what a terror you’d be if you were sick. And I’d have to deal with your man-flu since I’m your EA. No, thank you.” Then she hugged Diggle, thanked him again for coming to dinner, and did a cute little half-jog to catch up with her girlfriends.

* * *

Back at Felicity’s, three of the girls were trying to deal with the fourth’s meltdown.

It all started when Amy poured a glass of wine for Felicity then leaned back into the couch, smiling and informing the room what she had noticed at the diner. She had noticed the startled way Oliver had looked up at her after she moved into the space previously occupied by Felicity when they were in the process of leaving dinner. He was staring intently at the floor until her legs had moved into his line of vision. She was sure he had been checking out Felicity’s legs. “So, Oliver seemed exceedingly interested in your legs tonight, Lix. Wonder why that could be.”

She’d had absolutely no idea that a panic attack would follow her statement.

It took about twenty minutes of “Breathe, Felicity,” and “It’s going to be okay,” to get the girl to calm down enough that they could have a semi-rational conversation.

“Okay. So, maybe he has a suspicion that it’s you in that photo. That’s a good thing, right? It means he’s familiar enough with your legs to recognize them, and that he’s definitely thinking about you in decidedly un-platonic ways.” Veronica shot a glare at Amy for even suggesting that Oliver might know Felicity was the owner of the legs in the anonymous photo he’d received.

“NO! That is most definitely _not_ a good thing! He could report me for sexual harassment. It will make things so awkward in the office. He doesn’t see me like that and the fact that I sent him that picture is going to make him feel like he has to let me down easy. Which he doesn’t. Because there is nothing to let down!”

“If he brings it up, which he won’t, but if he does, just tell him you sent it to the wrong number. You were drunk and misdialed. It will be okay,” Amy added, trying to abate the tension in the room.

Then, Kara put forth the best plan for dealing with the crisis. “Listen, we’ll just have to show him that it’s not you in the photos. Simple.” Okay, maybe the plan was a little sparse on the details. Seeing Felicity’s face full of hope and doubt that it was a possibility had Kara explaining further, “Look, I have brunette wigs, body paint that we can use to give you a fake tattoo somewhere, and Photoshop which can help us hide any details that might tip him off as to your identity, we can use them all, or change it up to keep him guessing. If he thinks it’s you, then we give him enough details to show that it isn’t.”

The silence stretched on in the room until, finally, Felicity nodded her acquiescence to the plan, mumbling about how she’d do anything to throw Oliver off the scent of her identity.

“Perfect. So, obviously we have to send another picture tonight because it would look suspicious if he didn’t receive one after we spent time with him. That could just solidify you as a suspect in his head because he’d know you would be way too embarrassed to send something like that sober after just spending a huge chunk of time with him.”

With that, Kara grabbed the camera from the afternoon’s photo session and uploaded the photos onto her computer. She quickly separated the photos of each girl into their own folders, then all the girls gathered around to look at the photos of Felicity. After ten minutes of flicking through them, the girls noted that there were a half dozen that would be good candidates to send that night, being incredibly sexy but showing absolutely nothing that could give away her identity. No lock of blonde hair, no brightly colored fingernails.

They finally settled on one photo. Opening it into her photo-editing program, Kara quickly altered the photo from color to black-and-white, then carefully cropped it to remove the hint of blue nail polish that was visible on one of her hands. Looking at the finished product, they all agreed that this was the one Felicity should send tonight.

Felicity looked at the photo, trying to figure out if she could really do this. She knew Kara was right, with how close they were, Oliver would definitely not expect her to be able to send him a photo like this after the night they just had. Of course, Kara had no idea how well she and Oliver really knew one another, but with how much real time they spent together, Felicity had to admit that this was a solid plan. Plus, if he didn’t think it was her, then maybe he would come to her for help to track down the person sending him the photos. That way, she could judge his reaction to them. After all, the whole point of this was to prove to herself that Oliver Queen would find Felicity Smoak sexy. He didn’t need to know it was _her_ body that he liked, she just wanted to know that he liked what he saw. She could accept that he wasn’t attracted to the quirky IT girl (okay, she really couldn’t, but she didn’t have much choice), but she needed to know that the reason he didn’t want her had nothing to do with the packaging. If she knew that his disinterest in her as a romantic choice was due to her inner geek, then maybe she could find it within her to let this damn crush of hers go and find a man who would actually enjoy the dork _and_ the looks.

She’d had too many men who wanted her for her brain, rather than her body. Yes, she was aware that this was the opposite problem most women had, but it was definitely the issue with her. Men found out about her genius-level IQ and hacking abilities, automatically coupled that with the blonde, and decided to suffer a relationship with her in order to get her to do favors for them. It started with the high school quarterback who needed _help_ on his Math final. From there, it was a string of people who needed her intelligence and barely tolerated kissing her. She was pretty sure the only reason she and Cooper had sex in college was because of the killer program she’d written for their hacktivist group.

Aside from the lacrosse boy who’d stalked her in college, some of the crap that had happened while she’d been helping to clean up the destruction of the Glades, and that asshole that had groped her earlier that day, she didn’t think she’d ever received attention from a man who found her _body_ attractive. Her friends offered her assurances that she was pretty, like good friends do, but she’d never felt that way because she’d never been treated as such. But viewing the pictures Kara had taken of her, she began to see that she really was attractive, and she wanted to prove it.

In the picture Kara, Amy, and Veronica had chosen to send to Oliver tonight, the focus was on Felicity’s hands. They were cupped together gently behind her back. Kara had wrapped a strand of costume pearls around her wrists, tying them together. Her hands were off to her left side with just a hint of her thigh and the line of the white panties from the lingerie set showing on the right side of the photo. Some of her fingernails had been visible in the original, but the way Kara cropped the photo cut out all of her fingertips so the nail polish that had matched her dress from the previous night was nowhere to be seen. There were no details in the background, nothing Oliver could use to pinpoint a location or an identity. It was as anonymous as it could get, but still made her feel incredibly sexy.

She voiced as much to the group, and they all giggled and clapped as Kara transferred the photo onto Felicity’s burner phone. Felicity took a deep breath to steady herself, unable to wrap her head around the fact that she was doing this again.

Last night was different. She was drunk, exceedingly drunk, and it had seemed like a good idea at the time. A good way to show Oliver Queen that Felicity Smoak was not the cute, little sister-type that he had friendzoned immediately. That she could be sexy, too. Maybe not as hot as his usual go-to girls, but enough to wipe the word _adorable_ right out of his dictionary.

Thinking of the way he’d called her purple tongue a _cute_ trick earlier, and the way he’d give her a look after each story her friends had shared of her black hat hacker days, like she was a kitten with claws out trying to roar like a tiger, strengthened her resolve. This was definitely going to continue, even past this next photograph.

Using her newfound anger, she quickly typed in Oliver’s number and sent him the picture. Then she powered down the phone completely and turned back to the screen on Kara’s computer. The girls spent the rest of the night going through each other’s pictures, editing them, commenting on each other’s poses, complimenting Kara’s artistic eye, and assuring Kara that she was going to do really well for herself in the realm of body photography. Kara transferred the pictures onto flash drives for each of her friends, and then they turned on Firefly and cuddled down for the night.

* * *

Oliver stretched himself out over the futon after he returned back to the lair to settle. Having convinced himself it was not Felicity in those photos, he contented himself with just replaying their night in his head. He’d learned so much about the person Felicity was from her friends, and he reveled in the new mental pictures he had of Felicity’s rebellious attitude in college. At first he thought it was so different from the person she was today, all strait-laced and colorful. But then he remembered her _borrowing_ resources from the FBI and the fact that she was helping a vigilante outlaw clean up the streets of Starling City, and he realized that she hadn’t lost that rebellious streak at all. She’d even perhaps enhanced it over the years. And who didn’t like a little bit of rebel?

He closed his eyes, trying to commit each story to memory. While hearing them in his head again and again, he drifted off into an easy, deep sleep. So deep that he didn’t hear it when his phone chimed next to him signaling an incoming text message.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, this chapter comes with a new picture. Check out the [Pinterest Board](http://www.pinterest.com/thebookjump1732/picture-perfect) to see the pictures Felicity is sending to Oliver.
> 
> Also, I posted a sneak peek for this chapter on [my tumblr account](http://thebookjumper.tumblr.com) which will probably be made into regular thing, so check it to get a hint of the next chapter!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi Again! I'm about to start the dreaded Bar Exam today, and I'm kind of super stressed out, completely unable to sleep, and writing helps me with that. So, I finished the next chapter for you guys and am posting it before I thought I'd actually be able to. And it's crazy long - longer than any single chapter I've posted yet. Aren't you all lucky?
> 
> It occurs to me that you probably don't feel that way since it's been over a week since I posted the last chapter. Sorry!
> 
> As always, thank you to everyone who reads, comments, leaves kudos, and loves this story. If you're new to reading - WELCOME! I hope I'm entertaining enough to keep you coming back for more.
> 
> By the way, kudos, comments, and any other love you can send me today would be most appreciated to leave a bright happy spot in what is otherwise an incredibly sucky experience.
> 
> And now.. on with the story.

# Picture Perfect

### Chapter 4

The Computettes sat around the dining table at Felicity’s apartment eating breakfast at eight in the morning. Pancakes this time from the 24-hour diner across the street. The place didn’t normally deliver, but Felicity had tutored the owner’s son in statistics last year helping him keep his spot on the football team as Starling High’s star wide receiver. Because of her help, the son had scooped up a college scholarship that covered his full tuition, the only way he would have been able to attend university at all, and Felicity had won the right to have one of the servers run food to her apartment if the diner wasn’t too busy in the morning. It probably didn’t hurt that the diner was right across the street from her building, too.

While munching on their pancakes, the girls made plans for their next get together. Normally it wouldn’t be for another four months, and it was Gotham’s turn for the visit, but circumstances were slightly different this time. As Kara was planning on having her debut body show in her new gallery in January, everyone agreed to make the trip back out to Starling again for that.

With their future plans settled, the conversation turned towards Felicity and the photographs.

“I think the best idea is to keep changing it up. Keep him guessing. Have blonde hair in one photo, brunette in another.”

“Definitely. Ooh! And a tattoo in one place that isn’t there in another of the pictures. Keep him squirming trying to figure out exactly what’s going on. I love it.”

Both Amy and Veronica had immediately jumped on board with Kara’s variation idea last night to keep Felicity’s identity hidden; however, they both thought it would make it more interesting to screw with his head a bit. Or at least that’s what they told Felicity. In truth, Kara, Amy, and Veronica had talked in low whispers last night long after Felicity had fallen asleep on the floor, and they all agreed that at least some of the photos should _hint_ at her identity to give Oliver a fighting chance.

They knew Felicity was majorly in _like_ with Oliver. It might not be love yet, but it was getting there on her end. Over the past year, every time the girls exchanged e-mails and texts to keep each other updated on life, Felicity had mentioned something new to do with Oliver Queen. They all knew she was promoted to be his Executive Assistant in a weird move by Oliver, and at first they were disappointed with her for taking the job instead of pursuing her love of computers.

That all changed when Felicity explained the situation, though. Obviously they had heard about Oliver’s miraculous return from the island after five years, but had never really considered what kind of effect that would have on someone until Felicity explained what he was going through. She painted a picture of a guy whose family wanted him to be the same frat boy type that he was when he left while he was also struggling to be seen as an effective and mature CEO for his company. Competing with dual personalities was never easy.

Which led to her friendship with him. When everyone was expecting him to be on one side of this coin or the other, the boy was lonely while surrounded by people. By some random coincidence, Oliver had been instructed to seek out Felicity for her computer prowess by the then-CEO, Walter Steele. A fact that made all of the girls proud of their Felicity, knowing that her skills had garnered her so much respect that high up in the chain at Queen Consolidated that the CEO was recommending her talents. He’d come to her to help recover some data off of a corrupted laptop. She’d babbled at him, fixed his IT issues and sent him on his way. And then he’d come back for more help with all the technology upgrades that he’d missed over the last five years. They’d bonded over her help and formed a trust between them.

She’d told the girls that she was pretty sure he kept coming back to her for help because she hadn’t known him before the island, and therefore couldn’t expect him to be frat-boy Ollie. They’d become friends because he could be himself with her, which he couldn’t with most of his old friends and family. So, when Moira Queen had assisted in destroying the Glades and responsibility for Queen Consolidated’s future was thrust into Oliver’s lap, it only made sense that he would need the one person he actually trusted by his side. Right? Plus, she had the added benefit of being able to explain tech-related info to him during meetings that would otherwise fly right over his head, which she said was the real reason she’d accepted the promotion. She got to be involved in the review and approval of different science projects, her opinions were listened to and valued, and she felt like she had a lot of sway over the technology of the future.

That was how she’d explained it to them and they’d accepted it at face-value. Not anymore. Not after seeing how Oliver acted in Felicity’s presence. They knew she wasn’t awarded the position because she was sleeping with him – that was definitely not Felicity’s style – but they suspected she was promoted because Oliver wanted her closer to him, whether he recognized that as the true reason or not. He’d been trying not to stare at her at the club. Every time she was asked to dance by another man, Oliver’s jaw clenched and a vein on his forehead throbbed. When one guy’s hands had moved a little lower than necessary, Oliver had actually stood up and looked like he was going to intercede. Only when Felicity had removed the man’s hands herself, shot him down, and returned to their group did Oliver sit back down and pull a mask of aloofness back over his face. 

Then Big Belly had happened last night. He had been noticeably enthralled by the stories of Felicity. He’d stared at her almost non-stop all night, doing the cliché quick-look-somewhere-else eyeball dodge every time Felicity would catch him looking her way. And, they were all pretty sure he had somehow planned to meet them for dinner there, they just weren’t sure how he’d accomplished it. But, come on, Oliver Queen, billionaire CEO, eating at a crappy, albeit delicious, diner in one of the poorer parts of town? Especially on the same night they had decided to go there? Probability dictated that to be unlikely. If Felicity had ever alluded to him getting a better grasp on technology over the last year, they would have assumed that he had traced her phone’s GPS, but from everything she had told them, he was as clueless as ever when it came to technology.

When combined, all of these things added up to Oliver Queen being _in like_ with Felicity, too. Now that they had met him, they definitely approved of the match, so the only course of action left was to get the two together. A feat that those pictures should help with, if only Oliver knew they were of Felicity. Hence the plan to intermix a few hints about her identity with some of the photos. The girls had spent the night planning how many hints they should give, how restrained they needed to be so Felicity didn’t figure out what their plan was, and what types of things should be included. Obviously seeing Felicity’s real hair color in some of the pictures needed to happen. On top of that, they planned to include some photos of Felicity in underwear that she would typically wear, sweet feminine numbers, to soften some of the raunchier lingerie they had purchased for her. Some things to hint at her intelligence and personality were a must, too.

But they knew they had to be subtle as to what they were doing, otherwise Felicity would shut down the whole operation. She definitely did _not_ want Oliver to find out those pictures were of her, she had made that glaringly clear. Amy had realized last night that Oliver at least suspected Felicity was the subject of the not-so-innocent texts and it had sent Felicity into a tailspin. So, they agreed to hide her identity by skewing some of the details. It would definitely confuse Oliver, which worked perfectly for Felicity, but not so great for the scheming threesome’s plans. When Felicity had fallen asleep, they’d worked out this alternative plan to keep Oliver in the dark while aiding and encouraging that original suspicion. Their plan was that when Oliver finally realized it was Felicity in those photos, that he’d look back at them and wonder how he ever could have missed it.

“Okay, as much as I hate to break up the devious plotting going on here, Veronica and I both have flights out around ten and we need to be at the airport early to get through security, so we need to head out.”

“Or I could kidnap you both and keep you here chained to the radiator so you could be my friends forever and I’d never have to be without you,” Felicity responded to Amy’s announcement with a fake sweetness, attempting to get them to agree, like she was offering free computer parts instead of handcuffs.

“Now, see, if you were Oliver or John offering the bondage, I might consider it.” She put her hands up in a surrendering motion when Felicity leveled her with a ferocious glare. “Kidding, kidding. But please, tell me again how you don’t want anything to happen with you and Oliver, Miss Possessive.”

Felicity huffed while the other girls laughed. “I didn’t say I didn’t want something to happen. I said nothing _would_ happen.”

Amy smiled at Felicity knowingly. “Keep sending him hot pictures like that, Lix, and we’ll see what that _wood_ turns into,” she used air quotes to let Felicity know she was making her use of ‘would’ into an innuendo causing Felicity to blush for the hundredth time since her friends had shown up on Friday.

“Shut your mouth and get your bags so I can get you to the airport. At least then maybe my blood can go somewhere useful, like to my brain, instead of to my cheeks all the time.”

“Hey, Lix, you need to grab some stuff, too. We’re going to drop these two off and then head back to my studio to get more pictures. I have some great ideas. Grab the lingerie we bought you yesterday and grab some matching bra and panty sets of your own, too.” Kara paused like she reviewing her ideas in her mind. “Actually, I’ll come with you and sort through some of your clothes that I want you to bring. Always better to have options, right?” She nodded to herself and then let herself into Felicity’s bedroom without even waiting for the owner to follow or agree.

Kara began rifling through Felicity’s dresser drawers, pulling out some colorful bra and panty sets and laying them on the bed. In another drawer she found a few pairs of leg warmers and thigh high socks that she tossed into the growing pile on the bed. Making her way to the closet, she found a couple of sweaters, tee shirts, and shorts that she wanted Felicity to bring. Aside from the goals she’d established with Amy and Veronica last night, Kara had her own goal. She wanted Felicity to realize that she was sexy in her own clothes, not just fancy lingerie. “I don’t know if any of this stuff will actually work for the pictures, but I want to make sure we have a broad selection for you to use before I head back to Coast City, okay?”

Felicity nodded then bit her lip and closed her eyes while pushing her glasses back up onto her face in a gesture that Kara had grown to recognize meant Felicity was either nervous or lacking in self-confidence. She reached out and grabbed her friend’s hand, giving it a firm squeeze of support.

“Hey. This is a good thing. You’re proving to yourself that you’re sexy – which you totally are – and you’re showing Oliver that, too. Even if he doesn’t know it’s you, you can’t deny it will feel good knowing that he finds you as attractive as you obviously find him. Plus, it will get your self-confidence back up from what Cooper did to you. You are a brilliant, gorgeous woman and you deserve to see yourself that way. And if this helps you get there, it will only ever be a good thing. And if you get to drive Oliver as crazy as he drives you in the process, so be it. Then you can move on and find a guy who sees both the brain and the beauty.” _Or you can wind up with Oliver, who already does see both if his reactions to you are any indication,_ Kara added silently to herself.

They tossed a few pairs of heels into the bottom of a tote bag and piled the clothes on top to take with them. Making their way back into the living room, they saw Amy and Veronica with their bags packed ready to head out. There were hugs all around and promises to keep in touch exchanged before the girls headed to the Mini and sped off toward the airport.

* * *

While the women were on their way to the airport, Oliver was waking up with a stiff neck from another night on the futon in the foundry. He pushed himself into a sitting position and lowered his head into his hands, massaging his temples to attempt to chase away the headache that he was sporting courtesy of the tension in his neck. He knew the best way to release some of his tension was to get in a good stretch and work out to loosen his muscles and get his body back in alignment.

He reached for his phone to text Diggle to get him to come spar. A good fight should help him release some of the other tension that had built up when he remembered some of the dreams he’d had about Felicity the previous night.

Most of them had revolved around a college-aged Felicity. He blamed the conversations from the previous night about what she had been like at that time in her life. It was information about her he hadn’t had before so of course his brain was going to use the new fodder to fuel his fantasies instead of just repeating the old ones.

Last night, she was a freshman living in the dorm rooms and he was the Resident Advisor on another floor in the building. His floor had an empty room, and one night while he was doing rounds, he could hear noise coming from inside. Just a soft whirring sound. Having no idea what could be making noise in an empty room, he’d used his master key to open the door, only to stumble upon a gorgeous blonde in the tiniest pair of shorts and skimpiest tank top he’d ever seen dancing enthusiastically around the space to music only she could hear coming from her earbuds while simultaneously flitting to and from three different computers that were set up.

He made a move into the room, and something must have alerted her to his presence because she immediately straightened up and slowly turned to face him. Her eyes widened and she yanked the earbuds from her ears. She immediately began talking, attempting to explain her presence. She babbled about not having enough space to set up a supercomputer in her own room because she needed multiple computers working in parallel and she had _roommates_ , she’d clearly spat the word disdainfully, and continued on until he moved forward and touched her bare shoulder with his hand. She promptly quieted down and her stunningly blue eyes met his. Then she smirked at him, actually _smirked_ , and asked if he was going to punish her for being bad.

As if that hadn’t been enough, he’d had another dream where he was failing Business Calculus and had to get his grades up or he wouldn’t be able to be on the University’s archery team anymore. His coach forced him to seek help from student resources who told him that they had the perfect tutor. They extolled her mathematical prowess, throwing about words like _genius_ and _prodigy_. It was only after telling him how great she was that they told him not to give any credence to her prickly manner; she was just upset that she’d been caught hacking the university’s e-mail system to spam porn messages to some guy that had called one of her friends a slut and was forced to tutor people in exchange for not being expelled.

After this description, he’d been expecting a frizzy-haired girl with glasses too big for her face, after all, if she was a hacker she had to be geeky, right? So imagine his surprise when the stunning blonde with legs for days poking out of a flowy short skirt showed up at their pre-arranged meeting point. He’d never imagined geeky could be so sexy. And she was geeky, for sure. That skirt was paired with a bright blue t-shirt that had a red bow tie and the words “Bow Ties Are Cool” scrawled across her chest. Plus, she had the glasses, but they were more hot librarian than hiding half her face. She was everything he had expected, minus the frizzy hair, but also so much more. They commenced a tutoring session and she developed an _interesting_ rewards system for when he got problems correct. He’d never loved math so much.

He wasn’t even sure where his mind had come up with all of those details about her. _Bow ties are cool_? He had no idea what that even meant. _Okay_ , maybe he was lying a bit. He might have done some research on Doctor Who when he overheard her arguing passionately about it on the phone at the office between meetings.

Physically shaking himself to pull his mind out of last night’s dreams, Oliver looked down at his phone and hit the power button to light up the screen. He had a missed call and a new text message.

He checked the missed call first. It was Diggle and he’d left a voicemail letting Oliver know that he was already headed to the foundry to work off some of the greasy food still sitting like a rock in his stomach and that he expected an intense training session to make up for the lack of patrolling this weekend. Smiling at his friend’s enthusiasm, he shot off a text letting Digg know that he was up, ready, and waiting for some hard work. Then he turned his attention to the new text message.

Oliver sucked in a breath and held it when he realized it was from the same unknown number that had sent him the photograph he hadn’t been able to get out of his mind. His shoulders tensed as his phone informed him it was a media message, and he clicked to open it.

Seeing the picture, his breath left him in a whoosh. Where the last one had been legs and could almost be seen as innocent while being exceedingly sexy, this one was anything but innocent. There was more creamy skin revealed and the edge of delicate, white underwear covering the hint of a perfectly round cheek. The glimpse of thigh and panties alone was enough to heighten his blood pressure, and the rest of the picture was enough to send that blood straight south. The woman’s hands were _tied up_ behind her back. Granted, it was with a string of pearls, so it would be easy to get out of, but still. _Tied up._ How hot was that?

His mind immediately flashed to an image of Felicity with her hands tied behind her back lying on his bed in the Queen house. Obviously he would use something more substantial to tie her hands, like one of his ties. He remembered his dream from the night before and decided on another method: a bow tie from one of his tuxes. She’d appreciate that. Her eyes would dilate and she’d give him the same smile that crossed her face when she watched him on the salmon ladder. He’d lay his hand on her ankle and begin trailing it up over her calf, across her knee to her thigh. There, he would slow down his progress, taking the time to fully appreciate her toned muscle as he allowed his fingertips to glide up the inside of her thighs, sneaking his hand up the skirt of one of the new dresses she’d started wearing as his Executive Assistant.

That thought had him shaking himself out of his daydream. It wasn’t enough that visions of her thrilled his nights? Now he had to lose his mind to her in the daytime, too?

He’d never before been thankful to not see Felicity for a whole day, but he was experiencing that emotion today. There is no way he’d be able to stop himself from acting on his aching need for her with these lustful thoughts plaguing him all day. There was definitely a limit to the self-control any man was able to exert, and that limit would definitely be reached if Felicity was anywhere near his vicinity today.

If this was the kind of reaction these pictures triggered in him, he needed to find out who was sending them and get it to stop. Immediately.

 _But what if it_ is _Felicity in those pictures_? The little voice in his head reminded him that, even though rational thoughts convinced him it couldn't possibly be her, if it _was_ her sending these pictures, he definitely didn’t want them to stop.

If anything, the sheer sensuality of this picture had him convinced even further that it was definitely not Felicity. Even if he could potentially see her sending something safe, like the earlier picture of just legs in heels, she definitely wasn’t the type to send something this suggestive to anyone. But that little voice just kept nagging in the back of his mind, _what if_.

Trying to get rid of that thought, his mind turned back to the fantasy of sliding his fingers up Felicity’s inner thigh. Yeah, he was going to need a cold shower before Diggle showed up. Finally standing up off the couch, he trudged over to the bathroom in the foundry and turned on the water to a freezing temperature, shed his clothes, and stepped under the icy stream. Much better.

* * *

Kara and Felicity had dropped Veronica and Amy at the airport, shared another round of quick hugs, listened to Amy threaten Felicity with bodily harm if she stopped sending photos to Oliver, and then headed over Target to grab some extra supplies that Kara was adamant were required for today’s round of modeling.

Tossing nail polish remover, cotton balls, makeup wipes, bobby pins, and hairspray into the cart, Kara turned to Felicity. “Okay, just a quick stop in the sock aisle and we’ll be on our way.”

“Socks?”

“You’ll see.”

She maneuvered the cart into the aisle and stopped in front of the hose section. She grabbed two pairs each of white, nude, and black thigh high stockings. One pair of each color had lace tops with a sticky band on the inside that would hold the stocking up without additional help, and the other pair of each color just had a solid band at the top that was darker and tighter than the rest of the material.

It was a credit to her resignation to this whole modeling plan that Felicity didn’t even bother fighting her friend on the new purchases. She’d known thigh highs were coming based on the lingerie she’d purchased at Agent Provocateur. There were garter belts involved so of course there would be thigh highs. She just hadn’t realized they would get to that today. At least she’d shaved again.

“You know, if you’d told me we needed thigh highs I could’ve just brought some from home. I do wear those on occasion.” Kara arched her eyebrow in Felicity’s direction. “What? _I do_. On days where I need to feel especially sexy and empowered, I pop those babies on and immediately channel my inner Pepper Potts.” Felicity left out that she’d felt the need to wear them every day to work since she returned from Russia and had to encounter Isabel Rochev on a daily basis.

“Well, now you’ll just have more. Perfect for if one of your sets gets a run or hole in the toe or something.”

They made their purchases and then sped over to the studio.

The first thing they did at the loft was remove all of the bright blue fingernail and toenail polish from Felicity so nothing would be visible in the photos. Then, Kara grabbed her makeup bag and began dabbing on foundation to cover up some of the still-visible bruising on Felicity’s ribcage, telling her it would be easier to cover it up initially than it is to remove it in Photoshop.

“We’re going to play around with some of the props and stuff today. That okay with you?”

“Sure, Kara. Whatever you want.” Felicity held her hands out from her sides. “I’m yours to command. Do what you will,” she laid the fake drama into her voice.

Kara had Felicity strip off her clothes, leaving her in a pale pink bra and panty set that had lacy black edging. Before putting her into some of the new lingerie, Kara had Felicity pose for a few shots with that set on. Getting some inspiration, she pulled Felicity over to the vanity, and began pinning the blonde locks to the girl’s head. When all of her hair was up, Kara then turned to the long brunette wig sitting on the table. She pulled the wig onto Felicity’s head, secured it with more bobby pins, and set about fixing the style. Deeming the wig a success, Kara turned Felicity toward the mirror, drawing a gasp from her.

“Jeez. I’m having traumatic flashbacks to my goth days, Kara.”

“You’re so dramatic. This wig is not as dark as you used to keep your hair. Plus, it’s not stick straight, either. Trust me. This looks hot. The goth was scary. Still pretty. But in a don’t-think-about-approaching-me kind of way.”

Felicity shrugged and told Kara she was ready. They took a couple of shots with Felicity backlit against the window, some with her lying on a bench in front of the window with her back arched provocatively, and some in various poses on the floor and in chairs. They moved to the bed and Kara had Felicity lie stomach-down with her top half propped up on her elbows. She pulled out the pearls they had used to tie Felicity’s hands behind her yesterday, and draped them down her back. She adjusted the dark wig, and took some pictures.

She had her fill of that lingerie set, and had Felicity change into one of the black Agent Provocateur sets. This set was sheer with a floral lace pattern and had a matching garter belt. Kara had her put all of it on, including the thigh highs with the scalloped lace top. They repeated the procedure of taking pictures: Kara posing Felicity however she wanted, then stepping back to take some pictures, shouting out slight directions for Felicity to change her position, taking more pictures, then moving to a new pose or new location.

They did this with each set of lingerie, each of Felicity’s matching bra and panty sets, some with Felicity wearing an oversized sweater and panties, some with no bra and a t-shirt, and with the wig on and off until Kara was satisfied they had a bunch of great shots to tide them over until Kara returned from Coast City. She assured Felicity it wouldn’t be longer than a week or two and she’d be back to take more.

“Mind if I get just a couple more shots? I have a few ideas for some more risqué pictures that I’d like to get.”

“If we’re here and you’ve got the vision, let’s get it down. I’m game.”

“Cool. I found this picture of a girl with a super hot tattoo down her spine, and I think it would look really good on you. It’s Japanese characters down her vertebrae.”

Felicity panicked just a bit. “How positive are you that they’re Japanese characters and not Chinese?”

“Pretty sure, I guess. But not 100%. Why?”

“Oliver speaks a little bit of Chinese. I just want to be sure they don’t say something silly like chicken fried rice or sweet and sour chicken. That would so not send the message I’m going for here.”

Kara burst out laughing. “I’m sure it says nothing like that even if it is in Chinese. I’ve got the picture on my phone. Let’s run it through Google Translate.” Kara sent the photo through the translator, but it returned nothing. “Remind me to tell Amy that she should get Apple started on its own image to text translator service.” Instead, she ran the photo through the reverse image search and it popped up a hit informing her that the words were indeed Japanese and it translated to “Happiness is a journey, not a destination.”

“I kind of love that, actually,” Felicity said when Kara read her the translation. “Let’s do it.”

Kara had Felicity take off her bra and lie down on the floor while she grabbed the black body paint and a paintbrush. She got to work copying the Japanese calligraphy characters symbol by symbol onto Felicity’s spine, just like in the photo of the girl’s tattoo. When she finished, they let the paint dry for a few minutes, then Kara set it with a quick mist of hairspray down Felicity’s back.

She had Felicity stand up in front of a white backdrop and twist her hair up and hold it out of the way with her right arm. She took a few pictures, angled some lights in different ways, and posed Felicity in a few different positions. Finally, she was satisfied with how the pictures came out of the back faux-tattoo.

“Oliver will never know what hit him if you send him this picture. Seriously. Plus, you’ve worn some dresses that show your back in front of him before, right? Didn’t you tell me there was a gala one night and you sent me pictures of different dresses to help you choose what to wear? We settled on a backless, red number, right?”

“Yep. That was an amazing dress.”

“But the brilliant part is, it means Oliver has seen your back and knows you don’t have a tattoo there. It’s another way to trail him away from your identity. Let’s play around some more with the fake tattoos. This will be fun!”

Kara grabbed the makeup wipes out of the Target bag and erased the traces of the Japanese characters from Felicity’s back. They opted to draw on Felicity’s hips and a few other places and take some more pictures. There were plenty of fake tattoo options for Felicity to choose from, and Kara was sure that she had gotten some great ones that she could include in her gallery exhibit as well.

Felicity agreed to let Kara use whatever pictures she wanted in her gallery opening, provided that there was absolutely nothing in any of the pictures that would show her identity. Kara gave Felicity full veto rights, swearing not to have anything printed without Felicity’s express consent first.

They had played around with the body paint so much that it was much later than they planned on leaving. Kara called in a take-out order to Wild Thai-ger and they swung by and grabbed it on the way back to Felicity’s place. They sat on the floor in front of her coffee table eating noodles and going through the day’s images.

Both Kara and Felicity loved the majority of the pictures from the day. They picked out quite a few that would be good to send to Oliver, with Kara ensuring that at least half of the pictures had some kind of hint as to Felicity’s true identity. There were some with her holding a book, some with bra and panty sets that were fun and colorful, just like the girl herself, some with wine in a wine glass, and some showing hints of her real hair.

With each picture chosen, Kara opened it in Photoshop and adjusted levels, made certain pictures black and white where she thought it was appropriate, and cropped out Felicity’s face or other identifying features quickly. She transferred them onto Felicity’s encrypted hard drive.

“Okay. I need to head out. My train back to Coast City leaves in forty minutes. You’re sending him that one tonight, right?” Kara indicated the picture that was still up on Felicity’s laptop and waited for Felicity to nod. “Good.”

Felicity used the couch as support to get up and help her friend pack the rest of her equipment and bags, then drove her to the train station. She extracted a promise that Kara would return in less than two weeks and they could take more photos then. The women hugged and Kara got her own promise in return that Felicity would text her which picture she wanted to send Oliver. They agreed that she wouldn’t send them every day so that she could keep him guessing. With one last hug, Kara turned and walked into the train station.

Felicity drove back to her now-empty apartment. Locking the door behind her, she went and plopped herself down into her couch. She opened her computer back up and looked at the picture that was left up on the screen. Kara had set the image to black and white. In it, Felicity was sitting up on the bed with her back propped up against a pillow. Her skin was pale, barely contrasting from the white backdrop that Kara had placed behind the bed to get the shot. She was in the sheer, black, lacy bra from Agent Provocateur, the harshness of the dark color causing it to stand out against the rest of the paleness in the image. Her hands were twisted behind her back, holding the clasp of the bra away from the skin of her back, moving like she was about to open the clasp. Instead of her golden locks, the hair from the brunette wig reached down her back towards her hands.

It would definitely throw Oliver off of her scent seeing the brunette hair and the naked nails. Felicity was pretty sure that her nails had always been brightly colored in Oliver’s presence since they had met. Recognizing this fact as a necessity now, instead of just a quirk, Felicity went to pick out her clothes for work the next day, then grabbed a bottle of polish to match and set about repainting each nail in a new color.

When she finished her task, she sat back on her couch and let awareness of the silence surrounding her creep back in. She felt a little lost with her friends gone. She always did after they’d spent time together and she had to go back to being alone. Aside from John and Oliver, Felicity didn’t have friends. She had acquaintances. And she never felt this fact as acutely as she did after spending time with Kara, Veronica, and Amy.

She dug the burner phone out of its new compartment in her purse, turned the power back on, and loaded the photo into its memory. She opened a text message, attached the photo, and then paused before hitting send. Instead, she decided to give herself something to look forward to tomorrow. She set the message up to send at ten o’clock the next morning, when Oliver would be in his office with Isabel Rochev. That would be some serious entertainment for tomorrow.

But for tonight, Felicity let her couch swallow her a little more and closed her eyes to hold back the tears, letting the melancholy of being alone once more overtake her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, you may have noticed that we decided on a new picture, but we haven't sent it to Oliver yet. I'm in a bit of a dilemma with this one. Post the picture to the Pinterest board now, or wait until Oliver is actually sent the new photo? I'm kind of leaning towards you guys should see the photo when Oliver sees the photo, but I'm open to changing my mind if there's a huge demand for it NOW. 
> 
> Let me know your thoughts in the comments section!
> 
> If you're new here and don't know what I'm talking about when I mention the Pinterest Board (which you should know anyway by now considering it's been in the notes for every chapter), I'm posting the pictures that inspired each photo that gets sent to Oliver on my [Pinterest board](http://www.pinterest.com/thebookjump1732/picture-perfect).
> 
> I also post Sneak Peeks to the next chapter before I post the full text on my [Tumblr account](http://thebookjumper.tumblr.com). So visit that if you want a hint of what's to come!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone!
> 
> I am ridiculously sorry that it's been this long since I've updated. The bar exam took a lot out of me - I seriously couldn't even think straight the day after. Then there was lots of sleeping. Then three days after the exam was over, I left for a European adventure, thinking I would have plenty of writing time on the travel between cities. I had some time, but not as much as I expected, and I had even less access to reliable internet. All of this meant no Sneak Peaks, no picture posting, no responding to comments, etc. And for all of that I am ridiculously sorry.
> 
> So sorry, in fact, that I'm posting DOUBLE the length of what I normally post to you lovely people to make up for it! Also, remember how I promised a plot at some point? We're getting there! Plus, you get to find out what happened after Oliver left post-Undertaking. Hopefully that (kind of) makes up for the delay in posting.
> 
> Thank you so much to everyone who left comments and wishes of luck for the exam - you have no idea how much it made me smile to know people were rooting for me.
> 
> As always, thanks to everyone for reading, commenting, leaving kudos, and generally being an awesome bunch of people.
> 
> If you're new to the story, welcome!
> 
> And now - on with it.

# Picture Perfect

### Chapter 5

Oliver was frustrated. And exhausted. And it was all the fault of his mysterious, anonymous photo sender.

He had finally returned to the Queen mansion the night before, knowing he would need proper business clothes for work the next day. His body was also screaming for a night in a real bed instead of the lumpy futon that he’d slept in the past few nights at the foundry. For these reasons, he’d returned to his family home the previous night, and felt more alone than ever.

With his mother in jail and Thea out God-knows-where with that kid from the Glades, Oliver was the only soul in the mansion, with Raisa having gone home for the night before Oliver had returned. There was something eerie about being alone in the massive house that brought an air of gloominess to his mood.

Or maybe it was because he was alone after having spent so much of the past few days in the vibrant company that was Felicity and her group of friends. At least in the foundry he felt close to Felicity and Digg. Even without their physical presence, he could look over and see Felicity’s computers at her desk, her empty mug next to her keyboard, and her sweater hanging on her chair. He could see Digg’s workout gear across the room. He could look at all of these remnants of his friends and know that there were people who knew the truth about what kind of man he was and cared about him all the same.

He didn’t have that luxury in the cold, empty mansion. The house was gorgeously decorated, no one could dispute that fact, but it was cold and impersonal. There was nothing out of place, no homey touches that even suggested real people lived there. It was like the rooms had been pulled off the pages of a magazine and into real life.

His only consolation was knowing that he would soon be receiving another picture from his unknown texter.

He’d showered, plugged his phone in, placed it on the nightstand next to his bed, laid his head against the pillow and waited for the new message to come. He waited. And waited. Desperately craving that slightest bit of human contact to remind him he wasn’t completely alone even in this big house.

It never came. 

Finally, around two o’clock in the morning, Oliver had finally been able to accept that the message wasn’t coming tonight and allowed himself to try and fall asleep. It didn’t work. He kept questioning why the person had given up sending the pictures.

Maybe whoever it was had been hoping for a response and was discouraged when one wasn’t received? Or maybe she had realized that it was a wrong number and the pictures weren’t actually meant for him, but some other lucky man. That thought twisted at his heart and he couldn’t figure out why.

He laid in bed, tossing and turning, unable to shut off his mind from running through the possible reasons he hadn’t received another message. He hadn’t fallen asleep until four in the morning, his alarm set to wake him at seven, and now he was miserable trying to function on only three hours of sleep.

While he was used to functioning on so little sleep from his time on the Lian Yu, he couldn’t deny that his body had started to get used to regularly receiving at least six hours of rest. While the lack of sleep didn’t affect his productivity, he was a little grumpy this morning, making this meeting with Isabel Rochev even more unbearable than usual.

Ever since the look of pain had crossed Felicity’s face after realizing he had slept with Isabel in Russia, Oliver found himself unable to look at Isabel without feeling the crushing guilt and disappointment at himself for hurting Felicity in his moment of weakness.

Even now, as Isabel was blathering on about something she obviously felt was important, Oliver’s eyes kept straying to Felicity’s desk. He wanted to catch her eye and reassure her that nothing was going on between him and Isabel any longer. Objectively, he knew that it would be better if Felicity thought he and Isabel were continuing their relationship so that she would keep her distance. It would make it so much easier to control himself around her if she closed part of herself off from him. But, as quickly as the thought had crossed his mind, he immediately rejected the idea. He could never wish for her to stop opening up to him.

The girl was pure sunshine in his dark world. With her mass of golden curls, her brightly colored dresses, and fingernails painted to match, she brought vibrancy into his world and he’d become addicted to it. He’d even selfishly forced her out of a job that she loved into a position as his Executive Assistant so that he could keep her light closer to him at all times. He’d come up with some justification that would be acceptable, citing their need for secret identities, but that was only to appease her and Digg, and to avoid the awkward line of questioning that was sure to arise if he’d simply told her he wanted her with him always. He needed her with him. He needed her in his life like he needed air to breathe and he wouldn’t give her up for anything.

Which is why he needed to keep his emotional distance from her. How many successful relationships had he been a party to? Yeah, none. The closest he’d come was Laurel, and he’d brought her sister on a yacht to China with him. And while things were slowly becoming okay with Laurel again, their relationship was nowhere near as close as it once had been. He couldn’t risk something like that with Felicity.

And there was the ever present threat danger for simply being close with him.

Resigning himself to the fact that she wouldn’t look at him while he was in the same room as Isabel, he forced his attention back on the brunette standing imposingly in front of his desk, recognizing the need to offer actual responses to her if he ever wanted her to get out of his office.

He was able to focus on the conversation for a bit, discussing potential acquisitions and investors and some projects that Isabel thought had promise coming out of the Applied Sciences Division. By the time he zoned out again, he realized that Isabel had been in his office for almost half an hour. He looked down at his phone reading the time as 10:02 am. As the screen lit up, he noticed the push notification indicating he had a new text message. He discreetly unlocked the screen under his desk and opened the messaging application. His heart leapt into his throat when he recognized the phone number displayed. He quickly opened the message, not even considering the complications that might arise from opening it while Isabel was in the room. The excitement and relief that she had not abandoned him like he’d previously thought overtook him while he waited for the photo to load.

When it did, he instantly lost sight of everything that was going on around him, his attention captivated by the tiny screen in his lap.

This picture was gorgeous. It revealed an ample amount of porcelain skin, more than was visible in either of the previous pictures. His mystery woman’s skin was flawless, her back all smooth, toned lines, accentuated by the curves of her arms reaching behind her to unhook her lacy black bra. He could feel his mouth go dry.

Looking at the picture more closely, he noticed the slim fingers which were cut off at the tips in the last picture he’d received. The nails were perfectly rounded and without a hint of nail polish. His stomach knotted in disappointment, but he couldn’t figure out why. Until he realized the other detail shown in this picture.

The photo at first looked like it was in black and white, which would have made him feel better had it been true. Because if it _was_ in black and white, then there might be some other explanation for the hint of dark brown coloring the visible strands of hair. Some excuse like the way she was lit. Anything other than the fact that the woman in the pictures was undoubtedly a brunette. His heart sunk further, realizing beyond a shadow of a doubt that the miniscule amount of hope he’d been clinging to that his anonymous texter was Felicity was now destroyed.

Because he had her hair memorized, and _that_ was definitely not it.

His elation at receiving the picture rapidly deserted him, leaving him angry but also hopelessly turned on, a dangerous combination.

“This meeting is over. Please leave, Isabel.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. We’re done here. Get out.”

“We are absolutely _not_ done here, Oliver. We haven’t even discussed the potential partnership with Wayne Enterprises on their new laser technology. Or China. We have a lot more to get through today.”

Oliver clenched his teeth together in his jaw. “I’m not in the mood to discuss this further, Isabel. I’ve received some distressing news, and I need to take care of it right away.” His eyes narrowed as Isabel rounded his desk to come closer to him. As her eyes darted to his lap, he tensed.

Isabel looked up from the screen that was still lit in Oliver’s lap and met his eyes. She smiled predatorily at him. “Oliver, you don’t have to resort to looking at pictures like that while I’m in the room. I’m more than capable of handling your needs.” While she spoke, she trailed her fingers up his bicep and squeezed.

Oliver struggled not to wince at the feeling of her hands on him. Isabel took his struggle as something else entirely. She pushed his desk chair back slightly from his work station and positioned her legs between his as she reclined on his desk. “You don’t need to hold yourself back from me, Oliver. We had a great time in Russia and we can definitely do it again.” Her hand came to rest on his thigh, just above his knee. “Just send your EA out to an early lunch and we can take care of that tension right now.”

Her words hit him like a bucket of ice water to his face. He propelled himself further away from his desk, and Isabel, with his feet, his eyes immediately searching out Felicity.

Instead, he found her empty desk.

 _Fuck_. There were two options here. She’d either already been away from her desk and hadn’t seen Isabel come on to him, or she’d seen everything and wound up hurt again. Who could he pay to make it option one? If only fate took American Express Black Card.

* * *

Felicity couldn’t hear the clicking of her heels over the sound of her heartbeat pounding in her head. She was running like she hadn’t had the option of doing last time Oliver and Isabel --

She couldn’t even think about it. It made her want to throw up.

Everything had been going so well. She’d turned the burner phone on before Oliver showed up at the office, making sure it was set to silent, just in case. Isabel had shown up right on time for the 9:30 am meeting with Oliver. Her phone showed that the message containing the photo was delivered at exactly 10:00 am.

She hadn’t been able to peel her eyes away from Oliver the second her burner phone notified her that the message had sent. It took him almost two full minutes to actually look at the message, but when he did, she got everything she’d hoped for in his reaction.

His eyes had blown wide and she could see his Adam’s apple move as he gulped. He looked absolutely flustered and excited at the same time. She couldn’t help but smile at the expression on his face and at how obviously turned on he was by her photo. That same smile had been wiped off only seconds later when Isabel saw the photo and proceeded to grope Oliver, not caring at all for her presence. And Oliver did nothing. He didn’t stop her. He’d actually let her lean on his desk right in front of him _knowing_ Felicity was on the other side of the glass walls with a perfect view.

She’d run. Anything to avoid having to see her own personal hell happen right before her eyes. Last time at least it had only been the aftermath. She absolutely could not bear a front row seat to the main event.

Digg looked at her as she flew past, concern etched into every feature in his face. He reached out, gripped her arm and softly pulled her to a stop next to him. He didn’t say anything, just looked at her with a question clearly visible in his eyes.

“Oliver and Isabel looked like they could use some – um – personal time together. So, I’m just going to,” she made a motion with her hands indicating that she was going to leave. Then she moved over to the elevators, jabbing at the down button repeatedly until the elevator finally arrived and she jumped on hitting the button for the ground floor. Before the doors could close she called to Digg, “You might want to make yourself scarce, too, unless you want to have to find mental bleach.”

The doors closed and she sighed in relief as the elevator pulled her further away from Oliver and Isabel. She tried to reign in the tears in her eyes, but she was struggling. Between her friends leaving yesterday and now this, Felicity had never felt more alone.

A few traitorous tears escaped as she pushed open the glass doors letting her out onto the street. She needed to calm herself down before she went anywhere. She crossed to the parking lot and found her Mini. Opening the door and sitting herself in the front seat, Felicity wiped the tears from her cheeks and took a few deep, albeit shaky, breaths. She gave herself one minute to get it together, then pulled out her make up from her purse and fixed the spots where her tears had left red streaks down her face.

It wasn’t just Oliver and Isabel she was upset about. That was what triggered this round of tears, sure, but it was a combination of missing her friends, feeling alone already, and then Oliver making _this_ choice after viewing her most recent picture. Not that he knew it was her. But, he had known how much his choice hurt her in Russia and the fact that he had allowed Isabel to instigate their latest liaison right in front of her just drove home the fact that, while they were friendly, she was not an important consideration for him. It just made her feel more alone than ever and solidified the fact in her mind that, although he obviously found her attractive in the pictures, apparently what he really wanted was the tall, leggy, model type.

She knew she had a very short period of time to pull herself together before Digg came looking for her to make certain she was okay. Her makeup finished, she pulled the battery out of her regular phone so she couldn’t be traced, hopped out of her car again and made her way out on the street. Instead of hitting up one of her regular places for lunch, she decided to try somewhere new, somewhere no one would think to come after her so she could be alone while she wallowed and processed for the next two hours.

Two hours would be enough time, right? Oliver and Isabel would surely be done in that amount of time. She was sure Oliver could go for hours. After all, she had witnessed his stamina firsthand during his workouts in the lair. But, he wouldn’t take that long while in the office. She hoped. The Executive Assistant in her head was glad that he had no appointments scheduled until lunchtime.

Walking into Star Diner, Felicity immediately fell in love. It was an old ‘50s style diner, with the servers dressed in white with white paper hats on their heads, and mini jukeboxes on every table. It reminded her of the Johnny Rockets she frequented as a kid in Las Vegas. The hostess greeted her warmly and led her to a booth in the back of the restaurant, at Felicity’s request. She didn’t want to chance someone wandering by and seeing her in the window.

After reviewing the menu and placing her order, Felicity used the burner phone to call Kara. She answered on the third ring.

“This is Kara Christian.”

“Kara. It’s Felicity. On the burner phone.”

“Felicity? What’s wrong? I can hear it in your voice. Talk to me.”

With that, Felicity began relaying to Kara everything that had happened that morning. She told her about his initial reaction to her picture, and then Isabel’s reaction. How Isabel threw herself at Oliver, and Oliver put up zero resistance. She told her how she ran out of the building to give them some space.

“Are you serious? Felicity. Come on. You should’ve gone in there and torn her hands off your man.”

“He’s not mine, Kara. I have no say in who he, _you know_.”

“Oh please. That boy is yours even if he doesn’t know it yet. Especially after your description of how he reacted to the most recent picture. I think you should definitely send him another picture tonight, though. A quick reminder of who he is really pining for.”

“Really? You don’t think I should stop? I mean, if he and Isabel have rekindled their _thing_ , then isn’t the sending of these pictures in poor taste? I mean, that’s a relationship, right?” Felicity nervously twisted her napkin in her lap and looked around, hoping that no one was paying attention to her phone conversation. It didn’t appear that anyone was, but she kept getting the hair-raising sensation at the back of her neck telling her she was being watched. She remembered back to high school when she could feel everyone’s eyes on her after she’d cried in the bathroom at lunch over Matt McMillan. It felt exactly the same. Maybe everyone at the diner could see her emotional state.

Kara assured Felicity that there was no way Oliver was starting any kind of relationship with that “she-devil,” direct quote, making Felicity smile in agreement with the sentiment. They spent the next half-hour talking, with Felicity slowly munching away at her food. Finally, Felicity had calmed down enough that Kara deemed her safe to return to work whenever she wanted, reminding her that there was no way Oliver had screwed Isabel at the office, or at all, really.

While she may have looked put together enough to return to the office and was calm enough to do so, Felicity didn’t feel ready to head back to the location where Oliver and Isabel had even _potentially_ hooked up. She and Kara took the extra time she needed to talk through the pictures Kara had taken over the weekend, attempting to select one for Felicity to send to torture Oliver tonight.

By the time Felicity’s plate was completely empty, they had reached a decision. It was definitely one of Felicity’s favorites and she couldn’t wait to send it off. She thought of it as payback for her having to witness the Isabel exchange, and relished the thought of having it send while they were at the lair.

Finally feeling okay, Felicity hung up the phone with her best friend. She paid her bill at the Star diner, choosing not to turn her phone back on until she was well away from its location so she could keep it as a refuge any time she needed to escape somewhere no one would look for her.

She exited onto the sidewalk outside and began walking back in the direction of the office. When she judged herself far enough to keep Star Diner secret, she switched her phone back on. Waiting for her were two missed calls from Digg, three texts from Oliver, and the most recent text from Digg that simply said, “It’s safe to come back.”

Relieved that she could return to her desk without fear of a close encounter of the bitch kind, Felicity checked the voicemails and text messages. The first message from Digg was completely lacking in any information: “Felicity. It’s John. Call me back.” The second message was much angrier, not that you could tell from the tone of his voice unless you knew him really well, like Felicity did. “Felicity Smoak. I’ve been trying to find you and I can’t. We _will_ talk about this later tonight. You can’t just go off the grid like this. We need to know you’re safe, even when you’re upset. Especially then. Call me. Now.”

The guilt spiked in her gut. She had wanted to just be left alone to get her emotions in check and get some space from the situation so she could remind herself she had no reason to be jealous or upset. She hadn’t considered that Diggle would be worried about her. He’d seen her when she left, and she assumed that he would take her flippant remarks at the end of their conversation as evidence of her emotional stability so that he wouldn’t feel the need to worry, at least. She’d figured Oliver might make him track her down, but it had never occurred to her that he would do it on his own. Her fondness for John Diggle grew tenfold at that moment and she felt the hole left behind by her friends’ departure close a little. Maybe she had more true friends than she thought.

She quickly dialed John back to attempt to assuage some of his worry. He picked up immediately.

“Felicity? Where are you? Are you okay?” He sounded slightly panicked.

“John! I’m fine, I swear. I just needed to not be there for a little while. I’m headed back to the office now. You said it was safe, right?”

He audibly sighed on the other end of the line. “Yes, Felicity it’s fine. Isabel is gone.”

“Good. I’ll be back soon.”

“We won’t be here. Oliver has that lunch meeting today, remember? I have to drive him to the restaurant.”

“Wow. Is it noon already?” She still hadn’t looked at the time on her phone, but she had no idea she’d been gone that long from the office. Maybe she was a little more upset than she admitted to herself.

“Past noon. And we _will_ be talking about your disappearance later tonight.” His stern voice was as much to be feared as her loud voice.

“Okay. For the record, I’m really sorry, John. I had no idea you would worry.”

His voice automatically softened at her apology. “Of course I worry about you, Felicity. I’ll see you when we get back to the office.” And with that, he hung up.

Felicity was not looking forward to their conversation later. She heaved a breath of annoyance then turned to check the texts she’d received from Oliver.

**10:17 A.M.: Where are you?**

**11:03 A.M.: Are you coming back soon? Are you okay? Diggle says you turned off your tracker.**

**11:53 A.M.: I need to review the files for the meeting, Felicity. Where are they? This is not very professional. You can’t just leave the office whenever you feel like it without letting your boss know. That’s me, by the way. Call me.**

Her heart had clenched at the first two messages, relishing the idea that he would be worried about her and want to check on her well-being. Then she’d read the third message and all that hope and excitement had flared into frustration and anger. He was only concerned about her as far as it affected his ability to perform as CEO. He needed her in the office because she was the keeper of the files, that’s all.

She knew their relationship outside of the office was a bit more complicated than that, mostly due to her involvement as the Q to his Bond. Or was she more the Moneypenny? Maybe some kind of amalgam of the two. Although, she was always pretty certain that there was something more between Moneypenny and Bond, even though it was never actually stated. There was some major unresolved sexual tension there. She knew that existed between her and Oliver as well, even if it was only on her side. She had enough for the both of them.

Either way, she was more to Oliver than just his glorified secretary, and she knew that in her head. But when he occasionally treated her like that’s all she was good for, it pricked at her pride. And maybe also at a piece of her heart.

She shot a text back to him quickly, snarky enough to demonstrate her displeasure with him while still letting him know she was okay. Even though she was sure Digg had already passed along the information of her phone call.

**12:16 P.M.: I apologize for not being present. I hope you found the files for this meeting that I laid on your keyboard this morning, Mr. Queen.**

The formal tone and her use of his much-hated moniker, _Mr. Queen_ , should be enough. She clicked SEND as she walked back through the security in the Queen Consolidated lobby, waving to Peter, her favorite guard, who buzzed her through immediately without her having to show any credentials.

When she reached the top floor, she went straight into Oliver’s office without stopping at her own desk. She grabbed the Clorox wipes she kept in his lower right-hand desk drawer since he wasn’t using it. The man’s desk was practically empty since Felicity was the self-appointed Keeper of the Files. Yes, that title was capitalized. She deserved it. She wiped down the spot where she could clearly remember Isabel sitting, then turned to look for the file she knew she’d left on his keyboard. It wasn’t there.

She smiled since she knew that meant he’d found it and likely had taken it with him to review in the car on his way to the meeting. Then, remembering she was supposed to be angry at him, she schooled her features into a frown, did an about-face and walked out of his office back to her desk.

There she found a medium-sized bouquet of flowers with five petals per blossom, all in varying shades of pink, carefully laid on her desk chair. This time, she allowed her anger at Oliver to soften as she realized he’d sent her an apology bouquet. At least he’d bothered to apologize for his behavior this time.

She grabbed her coffee mug from her desk and made her way to the break room to rinse it out. She filled it halfway with water and returned to her desk to arrange the bouquet in the coffee mug. She kept the rubberband around the flowers to keep them together and propped the flowers against the back ledge of her desk to stop them from falling over. It wasn’t an ideal solution, but it would work to keep the flowers from wilting until she could get them home into a proper vase.

Then she sat down at her desk and got back to work.

* * *

Digg came looking for Oliver with a scowl on his face after he’d kicked Isabel out of his office, telling Oliver that Felicity was visibly upset and had practically fled the office floor.

“She told me that I might want to make myself scarce because you and Isabel were having some together time.” The scowl on his face deepened, if that were even possible. “What the hell, Oliver? I thought we talked about this after Russia. I’m not going to force you to be with her, but I can’t sit back and watch you hurt her again. You swore you wouldn’t do this, and now she has to watch you and Isabel together again?”

“Digg! Nothing happened between us in there. She came onto me when I was distracted by my phone in our meeting, and I kicked her out of my office when she became too inappropriate. I looked for Felicity right away to explain, but she wasn’t at her desk or in the bathrooms.”

Digg’s scowl cracked and he let out a sharp bark of laughter. “You actually went into the women’s restroom looking for Felicity? You’ve seriously got it bad for her, man.”

“I’m well aware, Digg. We’ve had lengthy discussions about my reasons for not pursuing anything with her. Even though it’s getting harder every day.”

“And you know my feelings on your reasons. They’re all bullshit. But I do agree that you shouldn’t start anything with Felicity unless you intend on it being serious.”

“I could never be anything _but_ serious with Felicity. I can’t be with her right now, but I can’t bear the thought of her hurting because of some mistaken belief that I had sex with Isabel. Can you pull up the tracker on her phone so I can find her and explain?”

Digg pulled out his cell phone and clicked on the tracking app that Felicity had designed and installed on all three of their cell phones so they could always find each other. There were three blue dots on the map, one showing Felicity crossing the street right in front of Queen Consolidated. “It looks like she’s crossing the street in front of QC right now.” Then her dot disappeared from the screen. “Wait! Now her tracker is gone. She was there and now she’s not anywhere.”

Oliver grabbed the phone out of Digg’s hands, confirmed the lack of a GPS point for Felicity, and immediately ran to the elevator, pressing the button to call it so he could chase after her.

“Oliver, wait. Listen, Felicity was upset. She probably just turned off her tracker so we couldn’t find her. Hell, she designed the app that we’re using, that’s definitely within her capabilities, especially considering the stories her friends shared over the weekend. But we both know she couldn’t possibly be without her tech, so I’ll call her and let her know that it’s safe for her to come back to the office,” Digg said calmly, trying not to add to Oliver’s panic as the fear was already overtaking his friend’s eyes.

While Digg attempted to call, Oliver sent a quick text so she could see for sure he was not with Isabel. He’d been reassured slightly when he recognized that Diggle was right; Felicity would never go anywhere without tech being on. He heard Digg leave a short voicemail message on Felicity’s phone. If she hadn’t answered for Diggle, it was likely she wouldn’t answer any communication from him either. 

* * *

Digg hid the worry in his eyes when he turned back to Oliver. There was no way he could tell Oliver that Felicity’s phone had gone straight to voicemail; Oliver would automatically assume the worst. And while Digg was definitely worried, too, he could control his emotions to look at the situation rationally and realize that Felicity probably just needed some time alone to compose herself. This way she ensured she got the time she needed without one of them chasing after her, which is exactly what they’d planned to do, so he couldn’t really blame her for shutting off her phone.

Except he could. She had to know he’d worry about her, especially after everything that’d gone down after they’d failed at stopping the whole Undertaking. She’d held it together, for the most part, until Oliver had disappeared. When the alarm had gone off on her tablet informing her that an insanely large amount of money had appeared in her bank account, she told him that she’d known immediately Oliver was gone.

Of course, she hadn’t told him that until much later. It had taken him four days from the time he’d seen the deposit in his account until he’d seen Felicity again. He’d spent the first day trying to get ahold of Oliver to question him about the million dollars and hadn’t really thought about getting in touch with Felicity. His search for Oliver Queen had proved fruitless. The next day he went looking for Felicity, only to be told she hadn’t come into work since the Undertaking. But that hadn’t thrown up any alarms in the IT department because there were a lot of people still missing in the aftermath, and QC hadn’t even officially reopened.

It was only then that he’d realized that he had no idea where Felicity lived. Sure, he’d driven Oliver around quite a bit, and knew almost every route the man would ever take and every place he’d go, but he didn’t have the same knowledge about their tech girl. He checked for her at their usual haunts: Big Belly, the foundry which was in ruins, a few diners and cafés he could remember her mentioning that she’d frequented. That’s when he really got worried because all of the places she’d told him about were in areas that had seen a huge amount of devastation. He hoped she hadn’t returned home if she lived in those areas, but where else could she have gone?

With part of the Glades so destroyed, it would be impossible to search and locate her apartment without knowing an exact address. Plus, it was dangerous. Some of the worse element in the Glades had taken the Undertaking as an opportunity and as a result, the rates of thefts, burglaries, aggravated assaults, and other violent crimes had risen exponentially almost overnight. He promised himself that, when he’d found her safe, he’d kill her himself if she’d gone back to her apartment.

That night, he’d broken into QC and located her personnel file in the Human Resources department and found her address. It was right in the center of the worst part of the destruction.

He went over there on the morning of the fourth day, praying that he wouldn’t actually find her there. Surprisingly, her building seemed mostly intact. A few of the apartments on the ends of the building had ceilings that had fallen in and some cracks in the brick, but the central apartments appeared mostly untouched.

He made his way carefully up the stairwell until he reached the third floor. Finding the door for apartment 312, he knocked. And got no answer. He knocked again and still got nothing. He hoped that meant she’d been smart and gone somewhere else to stay, like a hotel that she could definitely afford now, but had a sinking feeling that she was in that room. He listened at the door and heard the faint sounds of a television filtering through the wooden door.

He knocked one more time, announcing himself with a loud call of “Felicity? It’s John. Are you home?” And he waited some more with his ear to the door. Hearing no movement, he made the decision to break in and make sure she was okay. 

She wasn’t.

After he picked the lock, a little too easily for his comfort, he’d entered the apartment and found Felicity curled up under a pile of blankets, her eyes glued to the TV that she’d MacGyvered somehow to pick up the news channel even though there was no cable hookup and satellite coverage was down over the whole area. She’d looked much younger than her age, which was saying something considering how young she truthfully was.

But it wasn’t that which had him really worried about her. It was the bright red tear tracks down her cheeks and the puffiness surrounding her eyes. And the fact that she hadn’t acknowledged his presence in any way since he’d entered her apartment.

Any thoughts of yelling at her for remaining in such a dangerous neighborhood fled as he took in her diminished state. It was completely at odds with the Felicity she normally presented. Where she was usually poised and polished, this Felicity looked broken, and honestly as if she hadn’t even bothered to shower in the days since he’d seen her last. He doubted she’d even slept.

He moved to kneel in front of her, deliberately keeping his movements slow so as to not spook her, approaching her like he would a wounded animal. On his knees, he brought his head even with hers to peer into her eyes as he softly called out her name. He gently touched her cheek, clearing some of her tears and hoping to bring her focus to him. Finally, her gaze met his, and she burst into tears. He quickly picked her up and hugged her, murmuring soft words of comfort that he’d used time and time again with his nephew.

The most heart-wrenching thing was the way she kept repeating that it was all her fault. Over and over again for at least half an hour, Felicity kept up her mantra, claiming all fault for the Undertaking.

When she’d finally calmed back down, Diggle had made sure to set her straight. The Undertaking was Malcom Merlyn’s fault. And partially Moira Queen’s fault. It had nothing to do with Felicity.

Over the next few weeks, he’d been able to pick up the pieces of Felicity that the Undertaking had left behind and put them back together. They’d talked quite a bit in those weeks, becoming closer friends than ever before. She’d told him about her past, and he’d traded her some stories of his own. He kept up arguing with her over whether she was at all at fault for not knowing that there was a second earthquake machine. Finally, he’d gotten her to accept that she’d done everything in her power – they all had – and that none of the resulting chaos was attributable to her.

Eventually Felicity had gone back to work at QC, Digg had discovered that his bi-weekly pay check for being Oliver Queen’s personal security guard continued to appear in his account, even though he was obviously no longer completing the work, and he and Felicity had started volunteering afterhours with a group that was working to rebuild the city.

They’d established a new normal, becoming close friends in their own right, not just by pure association with Oliver Queen, and they were working together toward the same goal they always had been: saving Starling City. Months had passed in relative peace.

Until Felicity had been attacked one night at their volunteering job. Apparently some man from the neighborhood where Felicity had been working had noticed her when she’d been volunteering with the cleaning crews in his old apartment complex. He’d been content with simply watching her until they’d finished with that complex and moved on to another. Then, he’d gone psycho, followed her to the next job site, and had attempted to kidnap her. Luckily, John had been on site volunteering with her that day, and he’d stopped the attack before it could go any further than the man grabbing her arm and pulling hard enough to dislocate her shoulder.

He’d taken her to the hospital that night and stayed with her while she’d had her shoulder popped back into place. They talked a lot that night, too, with him hearing the story of the lacrosse player that had stalked her in college. When he pointed out that her building wasn’t in a safe location and that it was possible the guy who’d attacked her tonight knew her address, she agreed to move. They located a new apartment and had her moved in within the week.

It was after her attack that they’d decided the city needed its resident vigilante to actually _be_ a resident again. From that point on, Digg estimated that Felicity devoted at least 150 points of her genius-level IQ into locating Oliver Queen, leaving the rest of her points to deal with her IT work and volunteering, which didn’t require that much brain power in the first place, according to the woman herself.

They’d finally found him on Lian Yu. And when they realized where he’d gone, Digg could have kicked himself for not realizing it sooner. Of course he’d gone back to Purgatory. The man was an Olympic Gold Medalist in self-blame, much like Felicity had been, and putting himself through hell was probably some kind of fucked up penance he thought he deserved.

On the plane ride to retrieve Oliver, Felicity and Digg had discussed how much of the previous few months to tell him about. Although Digg didn’t necessarily agree with the decision, he agreed to keep Felicity’s breakdown and subsequent attack to himself. It wasn’t his story to share anyway, but he did reserve the right to be honest with Oliver if the man directly questioned him about it. Plus, Felicity assured him that the man who’d attacked her was locked up, and she’d set up an alert on his name at Iron Heights that would notify her immediately about any change in his condition.

When they’d brought Oliver back and Felicity had revealed the new foundry, Diggle had been as shocked as everyone else. He realized the girl must have more brain power than he’d originally estimated in order to devote enough points to the search for Oliver and re-outfitting the whole lair. He was honestly in awe of her.

And Oliver obviously was, too, if his reaction to the customized bow she’d created for him was any indication. He’d noticed the spark between them before Oliver had left, but it had returned with a vengeance after Oliver came back from the island. He’d had to hide more than one knowing smile as he watched the two dance around each other. Until Russia had happened.

He’d wanted to beat Oliver senseless then and there, but he’d refrained. Instead, he’d had a talk with him. He let him know in no uncertain terms that Felicity was important, that Oliver couldn’t just screw with her feelings and then screw someone else. He’d told him that there was more to that girl than Oliver knew, and that he would personally deliver the ass-kicking of the century if he toyed with her.

That had ignited a surprisingly honest conversation between the two men, where Oliver revealed the depth of his feelings for the woman that had wormed her way into a spot in both their hearts. While Diggle had adopted her as a pseudo-little sister, Oliver considered her a partner, someone he could see spending his life with. In the same conversation, Oliver had laid out all of the reasons why he had to keep himself away from Felicity, at least in a romantic capacity, most of which stemmed from his innate belief that he didn’t deserve to have love after everything he’d done in his life, which was bullshit in Diggle’s opinion, but Oliver would hear none of the objections Diggle raised.

They’d ended the discussion with Oliver steadfastly refusing to give a relationship with Felicity a chance. However, Digg had extracted a promise from his friend that he wouldn’t subject Felicity to having to witness anything else of Oliver’s romantic life. Oliver had copped to the knowledge that Felicity had a serious crush on him, which bordered on more than just a crush, and this way both men could try and prevent her from experiencing any unnecessary hurt.

Since that conversation, Oliver had attempted multiple different approaches to get information about Felicity’s past that Diggle had alluded to in their conversation. Each time, John had shot him down, telling him to talk to Felicity if he wanted her background.

With images of a shattered Felicity and her attack fresh in his head, Diggle was struggling to control his current level of worry about her. He knew that Felicity had equipped the tracker with its own feed into the phone’s battery, so its signal wouldn’t be interrupted even if the phone was turned off. The only way her dot wouldn’t be showing on the screen is if her phone had died or she had physically removed the battery from the phone’s housing. Considering that Felicity would never leave the house with improperly charged technology, the only option was that the battery of the phone had been removed. The question was, by whom?

Probably Felicity. She was upset. She wasn’t thinking clearly. She didn’t want to be found. She was fine. Probably.

The area around QC was much safer than the Glades. And even the Glades had become safer in the months following the Arrow’s return to regular patrols. She was probably fine. But in her emotional state, who knew what could happen, especially if she’d driven anywhere. It was Oliver’s next statement that strengthened his resolve to find her.

“I’m going after her, Digg. I have to find her and make sure she’s okay. It’s been almost an hour since she left and her tracker still hasn’t popped back up.” John hadn’t realized he’d been lost in his thoughts about the past for that long. He watched as Oliver typed out another text on his phone.

“You can’t, Oliver. If you think she’s pissed now, imagine how angry she’ll get if she hears you bailed on the lunch meeting with Bruce Wayne that she’s spent months organizing. I’ll go. You stay here, review that file she left on your keyboard this morning, and prepare for that meeting so she doesn’t use her loud voice on you when she gets back.” With that, Digg called the elevator again, and this time it had a passenger as it descended to the street level. His first stop was to check whether her car was still in the parking deck. That knowledge would help him judge the distance she could have gone. He’d only taken a few steps into the garage when he saw the bright red Mini Cooper sitting in her usual spot.

He hung a right, pulled the keys to the car he typically drove Oliver around in, and hopped into the driver’s seat. He stopped at every place he could think of that Felicity might have gone. She wasn’t in any of them. This was giving him serious flashbacks to trying to hunt her down post-Undertaking, which only made his worry spiral higher.

Seeing that it was nearing the time Oliver needed to go to his lunch with Wayne, Diggle realized he needed to head back to Queen Consolidated so he could get Oliver there on time. He called Felicity one more time, leaving her a voicemail expressing his displeasure with her, hoping that he was able to conceal the extent of his anger and hurt from her. Then he turned the car around and headed back to the imposing office building.

As he was riding the elevator back up to the CEO’s floor, his phone rang. It was Felicity. Thank God.

* * *

Oliver was pacing back and forth in his office, trying to focus on the papers from the file in front of him, when finally he heard the elevator ding, signaling someone entering on the floor. He ran to his door, and then stopped himself in his tracks to compose his face and demeanor. He nonchalantly opened the door and strolled toward the elevator only to be greeted with Diggle’s angular face rather than the soft, oval-shaped face he’d hoped for. He opened his mouth to ask if Diggle had found Felicity, when he noticed his friend was on the phone. Instead of interrupting, he caught the tail-end of the conversation.

“Of course I worry about you, Felicity. I’ll see you when we get back to the office.”

Oliver batted down the hurt that flared in his chest when he realized she’d contacted Diggle before she’d let him know she was okay and focused himself on the knowledge that she was safe and sound.

Diggle hung up the phone and smiled at Oliver. “She’s okay. She just needed some time. She’s on her way back to the office, and she’ll be here when we get back from your meeting with Wayne.” The relief in Diggle’s voice was unmistakable. Clearly John had been more concerned than he’d let on.

Oliver physically felt the relief soar through his body at hearing that Felicity was safe and on her way back to the office. He gathered up the loose papers from the file Felicity had left for him so that he could review them in the car on the way to his meeting with Bruce.

All packed up, he and Diggle made their way back down in the elevator to the car to take them to lunch. Oliver had just shut the door to the back of the car when he heard his phone chime. Seeing the incoming text was from Felicity, he smiled. She had contacted him, too. Then he read her curt message, referring to him as _Mr. Queen_ , and he cringed. He’d known when he sent her the message impugning her professionalism that he was likely to get a poor reaction. In fact, he was counting on it. She could be angry with him as long as he knew she was safe. Obviously, he’d had the file the whole time. He just really wanted to hear from her, and if she wouldn’t respond to his caring messages, he figured she’d respond angrily to his attack. And he was right. He could almost hear the cold tone drip from her words.

Well, he couldn’t regret that his plan worked. He contented himself with the fact that he knew her well enough to figure out what button he could push to spur her to action.

Neither he nor Digg had seen the flower delivery man carry a bouquet of pink flowers past them in the lobby, past security without being stopped, and up to the floor housing Felicity’s desk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another picture is added to our collection, and another one will be added with the next chapter, too! To view the pictures, head over to the [Pinterest Board](http://www.pinterest.com/thebookjump1732/picture-perfect/) I've created to post the pictures.
> 
> Also, I generally post a Sneak Peak of the next chapter on [my Tumblr account](http://theboojumper.tumblr.com) before I post the next chapter, obviously with the exception of this chapter - sorry again!
> 
> Reviews are always loved. I love to hear what you're liking about the story, your ideas for where I should go with it, etc. Please let me know your thoughts, I crave the feedback!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're back again! Thanks for everyone who sent comments letting me know their thoughts and likes on the last chapter. And as always, thanks to everyone who left kudos and subscribed!
> 
> So, real life is killing me. I expected to start work and be gradually loaded up with work. Most of the others who started at the same time had that experience - NOT ME! Apparently my group believes strongly in baptism by fire. Hence the lack of updating, even though I was halfway done with this chapter two weeks ago! It literally took me this long to get the rest of it written.
> 
> Also, I was in such a hurry to get this out, that I didn't take the time I normally do to actually edit the chapter, which I will be doing throughout the next few days when I have some time. I promise no content changes, just fixing any spelling errors or grammatical errors that I come across.
> 
> Sorry it took so long, but I tried to make up for it by having it be the longest chapter yet (I think..). 
> 
> And I made sure that there's another picture this time, too! So don't hate me too much for taking so long to get this to you.

# Picture Perfect

### Chapter 6

The meeting with Bruce Wayne went well, very well, truth be told. Oliver was sure their partnership was a foregone conclusion after this lunch meeting. In fact, the men had reached a deal that felt like a win-win to both companies, and had left with the agreement that Queen Consolidated’s in-house counsel would draft up the necessary contracts and have them sent to Wayne Enterprises’ legal team for review. This was a huge step for QC’s continued stability in the wake of Moira Queen’s involvement in the Undertaking. With this partnership, Queen Consolidated would officially be out of the red. At least in its Applied Sciences department.

It was a huge success, made all the sweeter by the fact that _he’d_ been the one to clinch the deal, without Isabel’s involvement.

A massive win for Oliver Queen.

So why did a serious level of apprehension tinged with disgust come over him every time he thought of the deal since leaving the lunch with Wayne?

Maybe because Bruce had spent an inordinate amount of their lunch openly complimenting Felicity Smoak. Her “brilliant mind” and “stellar comprehension of the nuances of cyber security” were just two of the phrases Wayne had used about Felicity during their lunch, and those were just in the first five minutes. Seriously, the man had sounded like a middle school boy with his first crush on a girl.

And Oliver was livid. Because _he_ was the man for Felicity Smoak. And no one else could have her, dammit. And he was definitely _not_ a middle school boy.

Except he was acting like it when it came to Bruce Wayne.

It didn’t help matters that he knew Felicity would be in contact with Wayne Enterprises almost every day, working closely with them to coordinate the project. She was the point of contact and Bruce Wayne could easily insert himself into those conversations. And with how he was spouting Felicity’s praise, Oliver was sure Wayne would be taking advantage of that communication line.

And the worst part was that there was nothing Oliver could do about it. Not with knowing how important this project was to Felicity.

Oliver may not have the genius-level IQ of the woman captivating his attention, but one thing he excelled at was reading people. That talent he’d had his whole life. Before the island, Ollie had used that ability to score a new woman (or multiple women) every night. During his five-year absence, it had been a large part of what kept him alive. After his return to Starling, he used it to on the seedy underbelly of the city to determine who was lying, he used it in the boardroom to charm the directors, he used it in meetings to secure investors. And he used it to monitor the face of one Felicity Smoak.

Normally she was a tough read. Aside from the times where he caught her staring at him with lust clouding her eyes or the times she employed her loud voice, Felicity kept her emotions close to her chest and mostly off of her face. He was getting better at reading the telling flashes in her eyes before she was able to mask her true feelings, but he wasn’t at one-hundred percent yet.

It wasn’t necessary to be a study of the many facets of Felicity Smoak when he’d told her he wanted her to run point on the collaboration project with Wayne Enterprises and Queen Consolidated. The joy and excitement had lit up her face, her wide smile practically blinding him with more pearly whites than he’d ever seen her show before. The bubbling of pleasure in his chest at the knowledge that he’d been responsible for putting it there felt unlike anything he’d experienced before.

It had been short-lived, however, when the all-too-familiar guilt seeped in. The reason for her palpable delight was obviously connected to her being assigned a project that let her flex her passion for computers again, after being relegated to a position as his Executive Assistant. Which was his fault.

Her anger that day had been obvious as well, demonstrated clearly by her loud voice and her violence to the coffee machine. He needed to remember to get that fixed.

The memory of that smile reminded him why he couldn’t interfere with Felicity’s involvement with this joint venture, regardless of how much contact it put her in with Bruce Wayne. He wanted Felicity to be happy. With her job, with their nighttime activities, with her social life, and with every aspect of her life. He just wanted her happy in general. Which meant that he would have to suffer through Wayne’s advances on Felicity.

That realization _could_ be why he was currently brooding in the backseat of the car.

_Maybe._

Diggle’s voice cut through Oliver’s rumination. “So – Wayne seems to have some high praise for our girl,” the amusement clear in his tone.

That earned Digg a scowl in the rearview mirror. “Yes. He certainly does, doesn’t he?” Oliver struggled to school his face into his typical emotion-free mask. It may have been enough to fool most people, but not the ones who knew him the best. Definitely not Diggle, if the spreading smile across that man’s face was any indication. “How does he even know about her?”

At that question Digg looked into Oliver’s face in the mirror again, seeming to judge the sincerity of the question. After apparently seeing that Oliver meant it, Digg rolled his eyes. “Oliver – the woman is brilliant. Genius-level. She graduated from MIT _early_ with two masters degrees. She didn’t have to send out job applications or interview, the top companies in the United States tried to recruit her. _She_ interviewed _them_. If you think that doesn’t include Wayne Enterprises, you’re crazy. Wayne is probably pissed that she chose QC. His loss, our gain.”

Of course Oliver knew how brilliant Felicity was. No one needed to tell him how remarkable his Girl Wednesday is. He just hadn’t realized that she’d had her pick of job opportunities, wherever she’d wanted to go, and she’d chosen Queen Consolidated. The pride swelled up in him, momentarily making him forget about Bruce Wayne. She really was incredible.

What if she’d chosen somewhere else? That was easy. He and Digg would probably be dead by now. She’d proved invaluable in both aspects of his life. As CEO, he relied on her to the extreme. She kept him apprised of advances in the Applied Sciences division, was able to explain potential projects to him in a way that his four-time-college-dropout brain couldn’t comprehend, and always made sure he was up-to-date and ready for any meetings.

At night, she did the impossible. She was able to get them intel at lightning speed, pinpoint security flaws that he and Digg could exploit, monitored the police radio frequencies to send them on their missions, and tended to any battle wounds they received when they returned. And those were only the benefits he could tell her out loud. On top of those, she provided a much-needed ray of light into the dreariness that was his existence. Having her voice in his ear on missions kept him grounded and focused on his mission. He even occasionally allowed her breathy gasps across the comms, that in reality were a reaction to him taking a hit on patrol, to appear in his dreams in a decidedly non-violent context.

Even knowing he couldn’t have her, he anticipated each and every time he touched her. While he was sure they came off as casual, friendly touches to her and any other observers (save for Digg), the truth was each touch was thought out in excruciating detail before he placed his hands anywhere near her body. He anticipated the tingle each one would bring to him and the goosebumps that would break out across his skin. Something as simple as a hand placed on her shoulder would cause him to wake hours later panting after his dream-conjured version of Felicity.

The dreams were worse when he allowed himself to play with the ends of her ponytail. He never did anything overt, but occasionally he’d allow his hands to gently brush the tips of the golden hair before he’d lay the hand on her shoulder and lean in. He didn’t do it often, so that if she ever noticed she’d write it off as an accident, but on those nights, the visions of wrapping that ponytail around his hand while he pulled her body back into his would comprise the most vibrant dreams he’d had since returning from the island. They’d become a welcome respite from the nightmares that usually plagued his subconscious, outshining even those vivid replays of terror.

Felicity illuminated the darkest parts of Oliver’s soul, and he absolutely did not care to share her light with the likes of Bruce Wayne.

“You don’t have to tell me how brilliant she is, Digg. I know. Believe me. We’d be dead ten times over without her. I just wondered how _Wayne_ ,” that name rolled off of his tongue like it was covered in acid, “knew how brilliant she was. But it makes sense that if QC recruited her, so did everyone else.” He sat up a little straighter. “I’m just happy that we won.”

Digg rolled his eyes but couldn’t prevent the small smile that accompanied Oliver’s statement, which Oliver took to be an expression of Digg’s agreement with that sentiment. Both men knew how important that little blonde genius was in their lives.

“Regardless of who _won_ , it looks like it was moot as now Felicity will be collaborating with Wayne Enterprises on this project. So they’ll be getting a piece of her brilliance, too.”

Oliver bristled at the idea of Wayne getting any _piece_ of Felicity, her mind or otherwise.

“As long as Bruce keeps his distance, it’ll be fine. But did you hear him? He was practically salivating over her resumé instead of his entrée.”

“You do realize you sound jealous, right?”

“I’m not jealous. There’s nothing to be jealous of – they haven’t even met one another. I’m just not thrilled about him potentially being in contact with her. He’s bound to flirt and make her uncomfortable. I know guys like him. I used to _be_ guys like him. I don’t want her hurt.”

The shadow that crossed over Digg’s face at this last statement did not go unnoticed by Oliver Queen. The fact that it seemed Diggle knew of another instance where Felicity had been hurt that Oliver didn’t stabbed at his heart. He couldn’t bear the thought of Felicity ever being hurt, she was too good and pure to have been tainted by the evil of the world, but Digg’s expression told him that, at some point in the past, she had been. And she’d told Digg, but not him.

“I don’t want her hurt, either, Oliver.” The pointed look Digg gave him clearly communicated that Diggle wasn’t talking about Bruce Wayne.

Luckily, they’d arrived at the office before Oliver had to respond.

Outside the safety of the car, both men reprised their public roles of CEO and bodyguard, meaning the personal conversation was over for the moment as they made their way through security and back up to the floor of the CEO’s office.

The door dinged open and Oliver’s gaze immediately landed on Felicity’s desk, needing to make sure that she was in fact as safe as she’d claimed. But his view of her was blocked by a bouquet of flowers sitting on her desk.

Oliver couldn’t help the way his face was immediately pulled into a frown. Bruce Wayne must have sent them to her in anticipation of the beginning of their work together. From anyone else, it might have been a sweet gesture, but Oliver had sent enough flowers to women in his past that he knew a play when he saw one. Pink flowers, not roses because that would be too obvious. Oliver had used that play more times than he could count. His anger at the man spiraled when he realized how similar his past self was to the current Bruce Wayne. At that thought, the scowl deepened, and he turned to stomp his way into his office to brood where he wouldn’t have to look at the evidence of another man’s pursuit of Felicity.

* * *

Felicity smiled when the elevator dinged, knowing that Oliver and Digg were back from their meeting with Bruce Wayne. She wanted to know every detail of how the meeting went, since she’d originally pitched the idea of Queen Consolidated cooperating with Wayne Enterprises on some new tech as a way to boost both businesses’ standing, along with the images of the CEO’s of each as well. Because, as much as Oliver Queen was seen as Ollie, the party boy fuck-up of Starling City, Bruce Wayne had a similar image in Gotham since his return. This project could be a way for both men to revamp their images and demonstrate their serious commitment to their namesake companies.

She hadn’t completely forgiven him for earlier, but realized she’d probably overreacted. Slightly. But who wouldn’t run at the sight of Oliver and Isabel, right?

But the look that crossed his face when he saw her at her desk set her over the cliff again. He looked angry with her. Why? Because she didn’t want to stick around for the free show? Because he needed her to find the damn folder that was _on his desk the whole damn time_?

Felicity’s anger rebounded swiftly as tears pricked at her eyes. She hated that Oliver Queen had such an effect on her. How he could bring her to such extreme emotions so quickly with just a single look. Not even Cooper’d had that effect on her, and she had been in love with him for months.

He had absolutely no right to be angry at her. Granted, she may have overreacted in haste earlier by running off, but it’s not like she’d abandoned him. The information he needed for his meeting was on his desk. She anticipated everything he needed, and he had the nerve to call her unprofessional? She’d show him unprofessional. She abandoned the idea of sending the picture she’d planned for the night, her mind focusing instead on one of the sexier, straight up naughty, pictures that Kara had taken over the weekend. She wasn’t even wearing underwear in that picture. Her revenge would be sweet.

When she had seen the picture, Felicity thought there was no way she’d ever have the courage to let anyone else see that. She was even leery that Kara had seen it. But with her anger at full force, the idea of torturing Oliver with that picture grew more and more appealing the longer she considered it.

Digg must have seen the look on Felicity’s face because he didn’t follow Oliver into his office, as per usual, but instead detoured over to Felicity’s desk, leaning casually up against the tabletop while looking down at Felicity. When he opened his mouth, Felicity was shocked that a question about her emotional state wasn’t the first thing out of his mouth. Instead, his gaze was calculating while he asked her a seemingly innocuous question.

“So. Who sent the flowers?”

That question startled Felicity. If they had been from Oliver, he would have had to order them in front of Digg. If Digg didn’t know who sent them, then it meant her original assumption was way wrong. Unless Digg was asking that question because Oliver _had_ sent the flowers and he wanted to remind her that, while Oliver could be an ass, he had a soft spot for her, too. That was definitely something she could see John doing.

She met his eyes, deciding to go with the safest option until she could figure out his endgame. Yes, they were friends. But he was friends with Oliver, too. Probably even closer with Oliver than he was with her, despite all they’d shared together in his absence. It was why she valued the Computettes so much. Those friends were hers to the end, whereas John was a great friend, but his loyalty was to Oliver and the cause over Felicity. “Not sure. I didn’t think to look for a card.”

When his eyes took on a dangerous, suspicion-filled gaze, she realized he hadn’t been playing a game at all. She immediately got up and started searching through the blooms for a card. She found nothing.

“I just assumed they were from Oliver.” She watched Diggle’s eyebrows skyrocket into his hairline. “Not like in a romantic way or whatever. Although, I remember watching this online webseries adapting Jane Austen’s Emma into a modern format, and in it she said that flowers are romantic. Like always romantic. But I don’t necessarily think they need to be, right? Like, you send flowers to funerals. Talk about the least romantic thing ever, am I right? And you give flowers to moms on mother’s day –“

Digg cut her off. “They’re not from Oliver, Felicity. And there’s no card? That’s worrisome.”

Felicity shrugged her shoulders and cast a glance at Oliver’s closed office door. Still, ever cautious, she lowered her voice. “He’s still in jail. I would’ve had an alert otherwise.”

Diggle’s on-guard stance noticeably relaxed. While she was still angry at Oliver, the ire softened a bit to make room for the swell of affection that rose through her for one John Diggle. He trusted her skills, had so much faith in her, that he immediately discounted the idea that it could be her attacker because _of course_ Felicity Smoak had hacked the police database to keep track of that guy, and _of course_ if his status would have changed even the slightest bit she would have been notified immediately. He had no doubt in her abilities whatsoever. The thought warmed her to no end.

“Well, in that case, maybe the flowers are from Bruce Wayne. The man had a lot of complimentary things to say about you at lunch today, Felicity. He seems very excited to be working with you.”

Felicity couldn’t stop the wide grin that crossed her face. “They’re not from Bruce Wayne. He would’ve sent a card with them, for sure.”

Diggle’s face morphed into an expression of curiosity. “And how would you know that? And how would Bruce Wayne know so much about you? Obviously you’re brilliant and you were recruited by every major company in the United States, which I told Oliver was the reason Wayne knew so much about you. But, the truth is that Wayne wasn’t part of Wayne Enterprises when you graduated from MIT. So he wouldn’t have been involved in recruiting you.”

Felicity had the good grace to appear slightly embarrassed. “I might do some freelance IT work for Lucius Fox every once and a while. He’s the head of Applied Sciences at Wayne Enterprises, and he occasionally requires some help with tech that gets slightly beyond him. He reached out once, and I helped, and it developed into a bit of a professional relationship. We routinely bounce things off of each other.” _And we create the things that allow Bruce Wayne to bounce off of walls_ , Felicity thought to herself. But she couldn’t reveal Bruce’s secret identity to Team Arrow any more than she could Oliver’s to Bruce. 

“And I met Bruce through the work with Lucius.” She ignored the widening of Diggle’s eyes at her use of Bruce’s first name. “I am actually the one who suggested to Bruce that this partnership with QC would be as good for his image as it will be for Oliver’s.”

Digg shook his head as he realized Felicity was somehow friendly with two returned former-playboy billionaires. And she had one of them in love with her. At that thought he froze. What if she had _two_ in love with her? “Mr. Wayne probably sent you the flowers thinking that you’d know who they were from, seeing as he was finalizing the project _you suggested_ today.”

Felicity was skeptical. Flowers weren’t really Bruce’s style unless he was trying to get into your pants. And he definitely was not trying to get into hers. They were solidly just friends. _But_ , sending flowers to send a message to Oliver Queen was _definitely_ something Bruce would do. He did know about Felicity’s feelings for Oliver, and it was not above him to try and mess with Oliver by sending her flowers.

She could remember specifically the occasion where Bruce had discovered her not-so-secret-from-anyone-except-Oliver feelings for her boss.

Lucius had patched Felicity into the comms while Bruce was on a mission because one of the GPS trackers Bruce had installed on his target for the evening was malfunctioning. Lucius had attempted a fix, but quickly discovered it was a hardware problem that couldn’t be fixed remotely. The night was dead in the water without Felicity’s help.

Felicity hacked into the target’s cell phone, feeding the GPS information from that to Bruce over the communicator system, allowing him to follow the man all the way to a house on the outskirts of Gotham. Then it became a waiting game while Bruce sat patiently at the house in full-on stakeout mode.

Did she say patiently? She meant not at all patiently. Shockingly, it turned out that Bruce was not good with silence on stakeouts.

“Thank you for your help, Felicity. You’ve proven to be an invaluable resource.”

You’re very welcome. You know I occasionally help out the Hood here in Starling, so I guess you could say I’m sympathetic to the vigilante cause in any city – not just my own.” She had to admit the thank you was nice to hear. She knew Oliver and John appreciated everything she did, but the express statements of gratitude were far between. Obviously, she didn’t help out for the thanks, she helped out because she believed in the cause and wanted to help make Starling a better, safer place. However, a thank you wouldn’t be remiss here and there.

Bruce interrupted her thoughts on her situation in Starling. “I hope he appreciates your help like he should! I want you to know that you’ve always got a job at Wayne Enterprises waiting for you, whenever you want it. Then we could make the vigilantism a common occurrence, if you’d like to be more than just occasionally involved.”

That almost got a laugh out of her. Like she was only _occasionally_ involved. If only he knew.

“Thank you for the offer, but I like my current job just fine. Plus, as much as I love Veronica, I think we’d kill each other if we were on the same team every day. Or she’d kill me with all the match-making. That girl would throw so many men at me I’d die. Death by multiple men. But not in a good way.” Frak. Did she seriously just say that? 

“ _NOT_ that I’ve ever tried the good way with multiple men. I don’t even know how good that’d be. Really it seems stressful. Way too much work. No thanks. Although, you’d probably get a lot of orgasms from that, right? Well not _you_ , obviously, but women in general. So many men who could take over when one tires out. Wouldn’t that kill someone? Death by orgasm. Don’t the French call an orgasm 'la petite mort,' or ‘the little death’? Sounds like _they’ve_ probably tried it before.” Ugh. Shut up, brain.

Three, two, “Okay, Bruce. We really need to work on your Shutting-Felicity-Up skills. This is why I like Oliver. He doesn’t just let me keep talking. Well, that and he’s sweet, funny, sexy as hell..”

”OKAY! That’s enough of that.” Finally Bruce jumped in to stop her. Where was this interruptor thirty sections ago?

The comms lapsed into an uncomfortable silence that lasted entirely too long. Felicity was shocked at the info she’d just revealed to Bruce Wayne in her babble. Seriously, Batman knew about her crush on her boss. How surreal is that?

A few beats of silence after the silence had changed from uncomfortable to down right awkward, Felicity found her voice. “You cannot tell him any of the things that just came out of my mouth. EVER. Seriously, I will destroy you, your company, everything. I will lock down the Bat Cave and your precious Batmobile will never drive again. Do you understand me, Bruce?”

“Calm down, Felicity. I promise I will never repeat those words to anyone. That’s what friends are for.”

“I won’t either,” Lucius piped in for the first time in over ten minutes, reminding both Felicity and Bruce that he was on the comms, too.

Felicity groaned audibly over the comms and let her face fall into her hands in sheer mortification. “You heard that, too?” Wishful thinking allowed to her phrase it as a question.

Lucius laughed. “Heard what?” He paused. “Come on, Felicity. Keeping secrets is our forte here in the Bat Cave.”

Bruce’s tone was colored with frustration when he chimed in again, “Now that’s settled, one more thing. We are not calling it the Bat Cave.”

Felicity couldn’t help her smile, remembering the first time she’d called the foundry “the Arrow Cave” to Oliver and Digg. “Yes, we are. Well, Lucius and I do when we talk. It was his idea.”

The exasperation was clear in Bruce’s voice. “I knew I should’ve kept this as a solo venture.”

Both Felicity and Lucius had called out, “too late!” simultaneously.

Knowing a lost cause, Bruce switched the topic back to Felicity and Oliver. “So – you and Queen, huh?”

Felicity’s face was an instant tomato and she thanked her lucky rabbit’s foot from the 3rd grade that she was alone in her apartment that night. “Nope. No way. We are not talking about this.”

She tried to fight him on it, but she could tell from his tone that he wasn’t letting her get away that easily.

She discovered she was right when his voice returned over the comms. “Yes. We are. I’m sitting in the _suburbs_ ,” the word left his mouth as if it had left a bad taste on his tongue. “I need you to keep me from going insane with the mundanity of it all. So, Oliver Queen. Go.”

”Fine. Yes, I like him. More than. But to answer your next question: no, he doesn’t like me back like that. We’re friends. That’s all.”

”That man is an idiot if he doesn’t return your affections.”

“Then he’s an idiot.”

Felicity softly smiled to herself, remembering the vehemence in Bruce’s tone as he told her that Oliver Queen was an idiot if he didn’t want her like she wanted him. Bruce knew how to be a good friend.

Pulling her mind back to the present and away from past memories, Felicity turned to Digg and told him he was probably right. Bruce had likely sent the flowers hoping to goad Oliver into feeling some sort of jealousy so the man would assert his feelings for her. After the night she had admitted her feelings for Oliver Queen to Bruce Wayne, the two friends had other conversations where Bruce had attempted to give her advice to get Oliver to “man up,” as he so eloquently put it. Maybe he had sent the flowers, hoping to force Oliver to do just that.

With the conversation over, Digg turned and went back into Oliver’s office, presumably to calm him down as he’d tried with Felicity.

Unfortunately, Felicity’s ire was still rankled. When Diggle closed the door to Oliver’s office, Felicity pulled out her phone to text Kara and let her know of the change in plans for the night.

**2:15 P.M.: Hey Kara. Just FYI change in pic tonight. Going to send the ass one instead.**

Kara’s response was immediate.

**2:15 P.M.: YES! Absolutely yes. I approve. Why the sudden change though?**

**2:16 P.M.: O was kind of a dick in a text while I was gone, then I was here when he came back and he frowned at me like he was angry. I’M THE ANGRY ONE AND I WILL HAVE MY RETRIBUTION IN THE FORM OF SEXY PICS.**

Felicity thought back to the way she’d reacted when Oliver had sent her that scowl. Her emotions were so under his control, and sending him _this_ particular picture was her way of taking away some of the perfect control he had over his own emotions. She knew he’d have a big reaction to this one if the way he’d reacted to her earlier photo was any indication.

**2:16 P.M.: Whoa. Down girl. Why was he so moody anyway?**

Leave it to Kara to ask the important questions.

**2:17 P.M.: B/c it’s his natural state of being. I don’t know. At first I thought he’d sent flowers to apologize for being a huge prick, but it turns out it was probably Bruce Wayne b/c we’re going to be working on a project together. So maybe he’s still mad that I ran out after Isabitch and her flying monkeys got her claws into him?**

Felicity waited. And waited. For being so responsive, Kara was curiously quiet for an extended period of time. And when she responded, it wasn’t very helpful.

**2:37 P.M.: Interesting.**

With no more responses forthcoming from Kara, Felicity bent her head and got back to work, forcing herself to remain angry so she could keep her courage up to send the photo to Oliver tonight.

When she looked up, it was time to head to the lair for the night. She realized she needed to head home first because the photo she wanted was still on the encrypted hard drive in her apartment. When Digg and Oliver exited the CEO’s glass office, Felicity carefully avoided Oliver’s gaze and instead met Digg’s brown eyes.

“You guys go ahead. I need to run home and take my clothes off. UGH. Why does my brain do that? I need to change my clothes before I come in tonight. This dress is driving me crazy right now. You go, I’ll meet you there in a few.” She gathered up her purse and shut down her computer before making her way to the elevator bank.

Cue the most awkward elevator ride in the history of people avoiding the stairs.

The typically talkative and friendly trio was silent. Forget a butterknife. You could cut through the tension in that 5’x5’ cube with nothing less than a chainsaw.

When the doors slid open, Felicity flew out, tossing some line about seeing them “in a jiffy,” because her brain was determined to make her sound as stupid as possible, and sprinted to the parking garage. Well, sprinted as well as she could in 4-inch pink pumps.

She blew her breath out once she was safe in her car, reminding herself that she angry at the owner of those gorgeous blue eyes and the perfect-length scruff. And abs. Everything about him, really.

She couldn’t wait to send him the picture. His perfect abs deserved retaliation in the form of the picture that made her ass look phenomenal. If she hadn’t posed for it, she wouldn’t have believed it sat behind her. Because that picture was whoa.

At home, Felicity quickly booted her computer and attached the burner phone and encrypted drive. She quickly transferred the file to the phone, and then opened it on the computer screen to look at it again.

She preferred the pictures where she was in black lingerie. It stood out against her pale skin, and made the pictures more dramatic. Or maybe that was the solid black thigh highs connected to the garter belt. Or the lack of underwear.

At that last thought she gulped, a wave of uncertainty crashing over her.

Maybe she needed a confidence boost to go through with this. She’d said she was going to change out of her clothes, maybe she could put on something to give her the extra edge.

Slipping back into her closet, she found a set of lingerie that she’d bought that weekend and decided it was perfect for tonight. She changed from her colorful bra and panty set into the black, lacy set she had in front of her. She finished the look with the garter belt and fastened her nude thigh highs to the clips.

She looked in her full length mirror on the back of her bathroom door. Oliver Queen should be so lucky. She went to put her dress back on, but remembering she’d said she needed to change clothes, she slipped on a looser, shorter skirt and cute top. She grabbed the phone off her coffee table, making sure to safely remove it from her computer, stepped back into her heels, and went out the door, heading to the lair.

Parking outside, she turned the burner phone on and set up the message to send at 7:30 pm. Being sure to have it send before Oliver would be out on patrol that night was incredibly important to her. She wanted him to be affected by the pictures, obviously. She wanted him to want her. But she didn’t want him to get hurt because he opened the picture while he was out fighting dangerous bad guys and let himself be distracted. The fact that she’d be privy to his reaction if he got it while still in the foundry was only a perk. Honest.

Making sure no one was looking, Felicity headed to the back entrance of the club. She punched in the code, making a mental note that it had been 5 days since the last code change, so she needed to update to a new one.

At the bottom of the stairs she heard something strange. Silence.

“Guys? You down here?” No response. Weird. There’s no way she should’ve been the first one to the lair after making her pit stop at home.

Shrugging to herself, she made her way over to her computer bank. If it got too much later, then she’d worry, but those two were probably the safest two people in the city. Well, at least when they weren’t going out _looking_ for trouble. She sat in her chair and started trying to find work for the men tonight. She got into her zone and she wouldn’t have heard if the walls started coming down around her. 

_That_ thought might have been in bad taste considering the recent occurrences. Thank Google nobody was here in case her brain made her say that one out loud.

* * *

To try and make up for being a huge dick earlier in the day, Oliver had insisted that he and Digg stop on their way to the foundry to pick up dinner for all three of them. He figured Big Belly as a bribe couldn’t hurt in getting him back on Felicity’s good side. He knew his text message was way out of line, but he didn’t think she would get as upset about it as she had. If the elevator ride downstairs and shown him anything, it was that Felicity was capable of holding a grudge much longer than he’d ever have thought. Especially one against him.

He wasn’t stupid. He wasn’t a genius, for sure, but he knew Felicity Smoak. And he knew that she had a thing for him. It was a little point of pride for him that Felicity couldn’t stay mad at him for long. It was definitely childish, but with how close she had gotten to Digg in his absence, the tiny fact that he had more of an effect on her than the other man in _some_ aspect of her life gave him some hope.

That elevator ride had shaken him. He’d thought it would all blow over by the end of the day if he just gave her enough space. After all, nothing had happened with Isabel, and while the texts he’d sent were, admittedly, a bad idea, he didn’t think they warranted this level of freeze out. But, as Felicity demonstrated, she was definitely capable of still being angry hours later.

So they’d stopped and he’d made sure to pick up Felicity’s favorite. Even though they had all just eaten Big Belly with her friends over the weekend, he knew Felicity could eat it every day and never get sick of it. Sick _from_ it, maybe. He still couldn’t figure out how she kept in such good shape with her diet and aversion to exercise.

Feeling confident that this would be a great step toward making up, Oliver was relieved when he got to the basement at Verdant and found the blonde ponytail sitting in its typical spot. He let out the breath he hadn’t noticed was caught in his lungs. Apparently in the back of his mind, he’d thought there was a chance she wouldn’t show up tonight. This may have been the one time in his life he was glad at being proven wrong.

“Felicity? I brought dinner,” Oliver tentatively called to her. She didn’t even acknowledge his presence. He tried again. “Felicity?” 

Still nothing. Could she seriously still be this angry at him? It was a stupid text message! “Felicity! Do you want Big Belly?” He moved closer to her spot by the computers. When he looked at the screen, he realized the searches were up and running and realized she was lost to reality while staring into the vortex of the internet. At least she wasn’t ignoring him on purpose.

He reached out and gently placed his hand on her shoulder to bring her back to the here and now and out of cyberspace as he let his voice cradle her name. “Felicity?”

Felicity jerked under his hand and twisted around quickly in her office chair. At least it was a swivel chair. She’d turned so fast she might’ve hurt herself in a standstill one. Her arm came with her, and took her purse off the desk with it, the contents emptying all over the floor.

His hand still on her shoulder, he noticed immediately the way she tensed up at seeing her purse hit the ground. He bent down to start gathering the contents off the floor and Felicity flung herself out of her chair and onto the floor, frantically scooping up contents and throwing it into her bag. He was momentarily stunned at her behavior. He’d never seen her this on edge, especially about something as small as a purse being knocked over. Hell, even that one time she’d hacked the NSA’s servers and someone had actually noticed and started to trace it backwards, Felicity had maintained her cool, despite the fact that she could have gone to jail.

He saw a business card peeking out from under her heel. He grabbed it and gently pulled it out from under her, careful not to tear it. He stole a glance at the name, and felt a pang of jealousy clutch at his heart as he noticed it belonged to some random man.

“Felicity? Who is George Williams?”

“OH! That douchenozzle!”

Oliver could feel his lip twitch as he tried to hold back a smile, not knowing whether he was forgiven yet or not, and not willing to smile at her in the wrong moment and potentially set her off again. Even if she was adorable. He tried to reign himself in to avoid laughing at her choice of insult. “Douchenozzle?”

At his voice, she turned around and glowered at him. Damn. He must not have done a good enough job hiding the smile threatening to break through.

“You really want to make fun of my insults, Oliver? I could pick out some choice ones for you, if you’d like.” Oliver winced at the suggestion that Felicity already had a few insults she considered applicable to him. It wasn’t quite so amusing anymore.

“Sorry. Just.. What did he do to warrant such a title? I’m asking for a friend, so he knows what kinds of behaviors to avoid." He caught the barest hint of a smile tug at her mouth before she opened her lips to talk. The lips that were bright pink, matching the top she was wearing. The one she’d just changed into. How did she do that anyway? He caught himself staring at the perfectly kissable pout and tore his eyes away before she caught him.

“Groped my ass in the middle of the mall...”

All thoughts of Felicity’s lips flew from his mind as he processed her words. He could feel his fingertips rubbing together, like they wanted an arrow. In that moment, he realized exactly how much he’d like to put an arrow through the bastard that had put his unwanted hands on Felicity. His rage was so high, he almost didn’t hear her continue. 

“…without my permission. I didn’t even know him. We’d just met, he grabbed my ass, handed me his card, and told me to call if I needed anything. Even put the emphasis on ‘anything.’ Like that ever works as a pick-up line,” she scoffed.

Trying to control his rage, he focused instead on trying to lighten the mood, maybe win one of her smiles. “Actually you’d be surprised.” Wrong thing to say.

“I don’t even want to know. Let me rephrase. Like that ever works as a pick-up line on women of substance.” He could hear the judgment. “Anyway, he handed me his card and left.”

Oliver’s voice was full of incredulity. “And you kept it? You just said that line doesn’t work on you.”

“Of course I kept the card. Don’t act stupid, Oliver. We both know that you aren’t. If I didn’t keep the card, how would I do this?” She punctuated that last word by plucking the card from his hand and sitting back down in front of her computer screen. The clicking of the keys on the keyboard gives away the furious pace of her typing.

Still seeing red at the thought of someone else’s hands on Felicity, he tried to inject calmness into his tone as he began to pepper her with questions about the offender, but Felicity was engrossed in her computers again, and he was left without answers.

He looked to Diggle who shrugged at him and motioned for them to work out. He could obviously tell that Oliver needed to hit something, hard. They changed into some workout gear to get in some training before patrol.

On the mats, Digg and Oliver begin sparring hand-to-hand, both giving as good as they get. While Digg got in a few good shots, Oliver was definitely winning, but only just. Diggle had improved quite a bit since they’d started to train together. Not that the man had much to improve; it was more just taking better advantage of the openings he was given, but they were more evenly matched now, and Oliver was proud of the progress they’d both made. He’d learned a lot from the other man, too.

Oliver’s phone chimed with the special ringtone he’d set for his mystery texter.

Having not expected to receive another message today, Oliver’s head whipped to the right, in the direction where he’d left his phone, at the same time Digg threw a punch. It connected, hard, and Oliver went down.

He looked up to Diggle who smirked back at him, holding his hand to help Oliver up, before stating, “I win.” As quickly as the smugness came, it went, leaving Digg with an expression of concern. “What was that, man? Normally nothing distracts you.”

Oliver blushed. Actually blushed. Maybe Felicity was rubbing off on him a little too much. Digg noticed, because of course he did, and the shock on his face was enough to make Oliver turn away sheepishly. His mouth opened to answer Digg, but the words never got a chance to come out.

From her computers, Felicity shouted “YES!” as she fist-pumped the air. She leaned back in her chair and smiled widely at the two men on the mats. They both just sent her questioning glances, waiting for an explanation.

“George Williams has just been brought down a few pegs, that’s all.”

“What did you do to him?” Diggle looked a little wary.

“Destroyed his credit score, flagged him on the No Fly list, hacked his home PC and altered his macros so that every time he touches the shift key on his keyboard, Google Chrome will open directly to a Youtube video of Rick Astley’s “Never Gonna Give You Up.” I Rick-Rolled him! BAM!"

She got up from her chair and made her way towards both men. She locked eyes with Digg and made a comment about being a “Bitch with Wifi” then held out her hand. Digg laughed at her, and met her fist bump.

Another inside joke. Wonderful. How was it possible that he was feeling left out of his own team? How was it possible that he felt jealous over Digg and Felicity when he knew there was absolutely nothing going on there. He wanted to be that close to her. To have that ease of friendship. But also to kiss her senseless, until they were both breathless. To see her blue eyes in the morning, half-clouded in sleep, and cuddle her closer. But he could have none of those things. He had to leave before he said something to tip off his emotions to his friends. 

“Okay. Time to patrol.” Without a backwards look, he grabbed his hood and his leather pants and went to change, pointedly ignoring the look Diggle shot at Felicity before the man followed suit.

He and Digg stopped to grab comms, then headed out.

First up, Felicity heard reports of a robbery in progress come over the police scanner and Oliver and Digg headed to the location. Fifteen minutes and an overly thankful store clerk later, the robbers were roped up, Detective Lance was notified, and the Arrow moved on to the next crime.

That’s how the rest of the night went. Felicity would tip them off to a distress call, Oliver and Diggle would work together to take down the lawbreakers, Felicity would alert the police, and they’d move onto the next incident. 

After a few hours, everyone was exhausted, and Diggle announced over the comms that it was time they packed it in for the night so everyone could get a few hours of sleep.

It was at that exact moment Oliver realized he’d been so distracted with the busy night (seriously, did the criminals think they were safer because the vigilante hadn’t been seen over the weekend or something?) and with thoughts of getting his own brand of retribution against the man who’d grabbed Felicity’s ass, that he’d completely forgotten about the picture he’d received earlier at the foundry.

Realizing he was alone and he could open the attached picture without anyone having a chance to see it, he reached for the phone and pulled it out of his pocket, opening it as quickly as possible. Maybe viewing the picture would help pull him out of his dour mood from the current state of his relationship with Felicity. Even just a little break to enjoy something would help.

The message opened and Oliver immediately realized his mistake. Because leather pants? Very restricting.

This photo was unlike the previous ones, which were sensual for sure, but this one? This one is downright, insanely _HOT_.

Whoever she is, she has a fantastic ass. Phenomenal, really. And the fact that he doesn’t know who it is, means he immediately pictures Felicity and her ass. He’d put money on the fact that Felicity’s ass looked just as incredible as this one, if not even more so.

The picture was in black and white again, like the others, but for the first time, a whole expanse of skin was perfectly visible, and it was the most perfect skin on the roundest ass he’d ever seen. The woman was laying on some kind of sheet, probably a bed, and was softly lit from the window where light was entering through a gauzy, sheer curtain. The white curtain accentuated the blackness of the woman’s legs. She had on pure black, insanely tall stilettos again, but she’d paired them with opaque black thigh highs. Thigh highs that were connected to a black, see-through garter belt framing her butt. She was posed face down, but only her lower half was visible in the frame. Her legs bent at the knees, causing her feet to point directly up, with one leg slightly more bent than the other, so both were visible from the side where the picture was taken. Her hips were slightly raised off the bed, pushing her cheeks into the air. Her bare cheeks. Because while she was wearing a garter belt to hold up those thigh highs, there was no visible underwear. Nothing to spoil the view of the delicious curves.

He shifted slightly and was reminded again of how uncomfortable leather pants were when sporting an erection. He groaned looking at the picture, pressing his palm to the front of his pants to alleviate some of the ache.

“Oliver? Are you okay?” Felicity’s voice was laden with concern for him. Fuck! He’d forgotten about the comms! He had to think quickly.

“Fine. Caught a kid stealing from a woman’s purse. He got in a lucky punch, but I got him.”

When she responded, her voice was noticeably less tight, recognizing that his response meant Oliver was okay. “Okay. Good. I’ll send Lance your way.”

“NO!” Calm down, Oliver, or she’ll catch on. “I mean, I let him go. He was just a kid. I put the fear of God into him. He won’t be repeating his mistakes again.”

“Oh. Uh.. that’s nice of you.” Her tone sounded surprised, and he could tell she didn’t really believe him. Oh well, he’d never been very good at lying to her anyway. Instead of making another lame excuse, Oliver decided to leave it at that and head back to the foundry.

His thoughts distracted him as he came down the steps to the basement at Verdant. On the one hand, he knows how strong his feelings are for his genius, gorgeous, blonde. He knows he could love her, build forever with her, if only he’d let himself. He knows that just as surely as he knows he doesn’t deserve her. Can’t have her. Can’t risk her. But he craves her nonetheless. He wants to map out every inch of her skin with his fingertips, follow them with his lips. He wants to know every thought that comes out of her gorgeous head, listen to every babble. Have the right to kiss her to get her to stop instead of resorting to words.

On the other hand, he has a gorgeous mystery woman who texts him pictures of her incredible body, evoking feelings of lust in him that he’s only ever felt for Felicity. The pictures were all tasteful and suggestive at the same time, with the most recent one bordering on erotic. They were both sweet and sexual, achieving that perfect balance between the dichotomy that he’d thought only Felicity to be capable of. But the brunette hair of the picture from this morning had dashed his hopes that he could have both. However, since he couldn’t have Felicity, maybe he could have this mystery girl?

Now he was starting to sound like Ollie, and he hated that. He knew how wrong those thoughts were. He was completely gone over one Felicity Smoak. But there was something about the idea of his secret messenger that he couldn’t shake. He wanted them both, and his brain was trying to compensate. Even though he knew it wasn’t Felicity, his mind couldn’t stop completing the pictures. He saw the first picture clearly in his memory, and his mind extended those long, toned legs up to a slim, fit body, topped with a slinky, blonde ponytail. He saw delicate wrists tied with a strand of pearls behind the back of a woman who looked at him coquettishly over her shoulder, blue eyes inviting him to come play. He replaced the brunette locks with blonde ones, picturing Felicity reaching behind herself to unhook her bra, her perfectly pink lips perked up in a teasing smile.

He put her in the most recent picture, too. Imagined her laying on a bed, hips raised off the bed, bare of any panties, with her blonde locks gathered tight in his hand as he –

Felicity’s gasp startled him out of his imaginings. She rushed over to him and began inspecting his torso and arm. Only upon her careful attention does he realize that his arm is covered in blood. The guy with the knife in the alleyway must have gotten a good slice in. Oliver hadn’t even felt it.

She took his hand and led him to the medical bay, gently forcing him to sit down so she could patch him up. She helped him to carefully remove his stained shirt and his mind instantly started playing nurse Felicity fantasies. He’d had quite a few of those over the past year, considering that every time she patched him up his mind created a new one. And she fixed him a lot more than was probably healthy.

She stood between his legs so she could get close enough to examine his wound. She’d needed to make sure it was clean of any debris before she applied some antibiotic cream to it. After that was done, she turned to grab some gauze and tape.

But when she turned, she accidentally pressed her ass into Oliver’s leg, sending his senses into overload. It felt just as soft against his leg as he’d imagined in each of his dreams. Softer. He longed to feel it tense under his hand as he clutched it closer to him. He had to physically sit on his hands to stop himself from reaching out to touch it.

When she turned back, something else caught his attention. Most of her lower half and been soft and toned, but there was something hard on her upper thigh that he could feel pressed into his. It took him a moment, but he realized it was the clasp to a garter set. Holy shit. Felicity was wearing a garter belt and thigh highs.

His mind went instantly into the gutter as his hope skyrocketed through the roof. His mind was completely in favor of forgetting the brunette hair and using the garter belt as confirmation that it really was Felicity in those pictures. Only fear of completely losing his heart and knowing that nothing could come of it held him back at all. Even still, he could feel himself growing hard again. He needed to get her away from him.

“I’ve got it from here. Thanks, Felicity.” He gently stole the medical tape from her hand and stood up, forcing her to give him some personal space. He made some lame excuse about needing to change, and looked to Digg for agreement.

He could tell Diggle was amused at his predicament. Of course Digg had noticed. It was Diggle, after all. Luckily, his friend apparently was feeling sympathetic that night and took pity on Oliver, gathering up their stuff and heading toward the back room to change.

Well, Digg was in favor of letting it go in front of Felicity, but the second he and Oliver were alone he immediately began the third-degree, questioning Oliver’s strange behavior.

Needing someone to vent to about the whole screwed up situation, Oliver spilled the beans to Digg about the woman sending him incredibly provocative pictures anonymously almost every day. Once the story started, the words kept rolling from his lips.

Diggle’s first suggestion was exactly what Oliver’s first inclination had been: ask Felicity to trace the messages. But there was no way to ask that of Felicity without showing her the pictures, and he definitely didn’t want to do that. He supposed that he could simply give her the phone number, but Felicity would ask why he needed the trace, and when he wouldn’t tell her, it would be a mystery. And he knew damn well how she felt about mysteries.

Having explained this to Digg, John agreed that keeping Felicity out of it was in everyone’s best interests. At least for now. But Digg made the point that if it escalated, if the woman started stalking him or something else, that they would have to bring Felicity in. Oliver hesitantly agreed and silently prayed that it wouldn’t come to that.

Changed back into street clothes, the men rejoined Felicity by the computers. With her fixing Oliver’s wounds, he’d sensed something had changed, and that there was no longer any anger on her part towards him. He gently placed his hand on her shoulder again and thanked her for her help. If his thumb rubbed small circles onto her back, neither of them mentioned it.

They all headed home for the night to rest up for another day of business and crime-fighting, Oliver making sure Felicity got safely into her car and on her way. And if his eyes lingered on her taillights as she pulled away from them, John was nice enough to keep his mouth shut about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there you have yet another chapter of Picture Perfect!
> 
> Don't forget to check out the [Pinterest Board](http://www.pinterest.com/thebookjump1732/picture-perfect/) for this story so you can see the newest picture.
> 
> Also, I will continue the habit of posting Sneak Peeks for the upcoming chapters on my [Tumblr account](http://thebookjumper.tumblr.com)!
> 
> If you want to be tagged in any updates that happen - make sure to leave me a note on tumblr and I'll have you added right away!!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back for another round! 
> 
> Work and real life is killing me and making it difficult to find time to write. BUT! I've finally finished Chapter 7 and I'm halfway through planning Chapter 8. Originally it was all going to be one chapter, but with the direction I took Chapter 8, it didn't feel right to include it in this part. Sorry!
> 
> As always, thank you all so much for reading this story. And thanks to everyone who leaves reviews, kudos, follows, subscribes, and otherwise lets me know their thoughts on the chapters. You are all fantastic.
> 
> Lastly, I have to send out a special thank you to MissyRiver for talking to me about my story and giving me some much needed insight into how my characters were coming across. You are awesome and thank you so much for taking the time out of your day to talk through some of your thoughts with me!
> 
> Now, everyone! On with the chapter!

# Picture Perfect

### Chapter 7

Felicity jolted awake in her bed. Her body wracked with shivers, her first thought was questioning why she was so cold. She ran her hand across her face, lips frowning in confusion when her hand pulled away wet.

Actually, now that she was becoming aware, her whole body was damp.

Only when her dream came back to her did she realize she was covered in sweat that was cooling in the crisp October air.

As she came more into her mind, the specifics of the dream faded further and further from her grasp, but she could remember the feel of hands running all over her body and writhing underneath them as she was pressed further into the hard surface on which she was lying. The sensation of a hard body pressing into hers, the feel of twitching abdominals under her fingertips, and the raised bumps of scar tissue she encountered as she skated her hands across his body in return.

Frak. She was definitely having a sex dream about Oliver Queen.

She wondered what had triggered it this time. Thinking back on the previous night, she remembered catching his breathy moan over the comms, and figured out exactly what was the culprit. His claim of stopping some random kid was bogus and she knew it. She could read it in the tone of his voice. He had offered the lame excuse after opening the picture she’d sent the previous night, she was absolutely positive.

Her cheeks burned as she remembered the exact contents of that image. Why had she ever thought sending him that racy of a picture was a good idea? She’d sworn to herself upon seeing it for the first time that it would never see the light of day. Only she and the Computettes would know of its existence. And at the first sign of uncontrollable emotions for one Oliver Queen, her mind had instantaneously jumped to that picture for retaliation.

Thinking on it now, she realized that Oliver has always made her emotions get out of whack and she’d have to exercise better judgment from now on. Especially if she didn’t want to slip up and tip Oliver off as to her identity. Which was the absolute worst case scenario in her mind.

All that said, she couldn’t help but feel gratified by his reaction. She knew the moans Oliver made when he was in pain and the one that had issued from his mouth last night was definitely _not_ that. It was the breathiness that did it. She could imagine that moan being given in decidedly non-platonic circumstances. For example, the steamy dream she’d just had.

Knowing that she needed the chance to get some real, uninterrupted sleep, she resolved to keep her next picture more sedate than the one from the night before so hopefully her sleep would remain unmolested at night. She also decided that she’d give a bit of a cooling off period before she sent another one, so hopefully he’d have too much space between pictures to make any sort of connection between the images and potentially realize that they were of her.

Rolling over, Felicity let the blue numbers from her digital alarm clock burn the time into her retinas. Clenching her lids shut in pain, both from brightness of the color and the knowledge that she had woken up only three minutes before her alarm was set to go off, Felicity sighed. That might be the worst feeling in the world – waking up minutes before the alarm went off. At least if there was an hour left, there was hope of more sleep, but with this, it was just the horrendous feeling that she was robbed of the precious little time that had remained of her night.

Re-opening her eyes, she forced herself to sit upright in bed. That was at least the first step to actually getting up, right? It definitely counted as a step in the right direction.

Next, she put both feet on the ground and pushed herself off the edge of the bed with her palms. Finally. Standing was progress. Now she just needed a warm shower to wash away her sweat-drenched body and she would be at least partly on her way to being ready for the new day.

She padded over to the shower, raising her hand to her mouth to cover up her yawn. She turned the shower on, then turned and peeled off her damp tank top and cupcake-themed pajama shorts while she let the shower warm up.

Felicity stuck her hand under the spray and determined it was warm enough to enter. The immediate warming of her body called her dream back to her. Thinking of Oliver’s hands trailing across her body, Felicity let her hands wander over her abdomen in the warmth of the water.

Even though she’d never admit it out loud, she wished for it to be Oliver’s hands instead of her own skimming her naked form. With the impressions of the dream fresh in her mind, she allowed her hand to slip between her legs.

30 minutes, freshly washed hair, and a decent orgasm where Oliver’s name was whispered into the relative quiet of her shower later, Felicity was late. Beyond late.

Stepping up to her sink and mirror, she realized there was no time to blow dry and straighten her hair like she normally did. Instead, she decided to pull her curly hair products out of the medicine cabinet and finger comb them through her hair. She’d have to let it air dry curly today.

She quickly swiped on her foundation, dabbing a little extra under her eyes to hide the dark spots that were slowly, but surely, developing from the lack of sufficient sleep night after night. Then she stepped into her closet, picked out a bright red dress for the day, and finished applying her makeup to match, topping the look with a bright red lipstick in the same shade as the dress. It would have to be good enough.

She grabbed one of her typical bra and panty sets, this one a pale pink with white polka dots and white lace trim and put them on quickly, followed by pulling the dress over her head. She loved the way this dress hugged her torso and then fanned out at her hips into a loose skirt that fell to about two inches above her knees. Too bad it would be paired with the untamable curls that her hair would no doubt devolve into as it dried. She knew she’d be fighting with them all day long to maintain as professional a look as possible.

Deeming herself to be mostly fit for a professional office setting, she headed into QC.

Arriving at her desk, she pulled out her everyday phone, noticing that she had a new message. This time it was from Amy, asking how the photo campaign to “get Oliver Queen to sex Lix up” was progressing. Her words. Definitely her words.

Texting back and forth, she filled Amy in on the pictures she’d sent already, trying to describe them in detail as best she could considering some of them had been taken post-Amy’s departure from Starling. With a promise to forward some of the pictures on to Amy that night so she could see for herself which ones Oliver was drooling over, her words again, she filled her friend in on the new game plan: wait for a bit before sending another picture, and then making sure the sent picture was a little more tame than the last one.

After discussing a few of the pictures that Amy had seen over the weekend, she offered the best suggestion for the next delivery to Oliver. It was more tame than the previous one, but still sexy.

Obviously Amy couldn’t tell Felicity the real reason she had suggested that photo, but she, Veronica, and Kara had been texting about their secret mission and had collectively decided it was time to give Oliver a hint as to Felicity’s true identity. It wasn’t an outright, obvious hint by any means. More of just a suggestion, but hopefully it would lean him in the right direction. This particular photo exposed an aspect of Felicity’s personality without revealing any new physical information. The Computettes had decided on this picture for exactly that reason; Felicity wouldn’t catch on to their true goal just by sending this picture. Unfortunately, that meant it would be more of a stretch for Oliver Queen, too, but all they needed was to plant the idea in his mind. For now, at least. Less subtle nudges would come later on with some of the other parts of their plan.

* * *

Oliver was late and he knew it. He knew he’d be lucky if Felicity didn't rip his head off for being so late that he missed his first meeting of the morning, but he couldn’t just leave without waiting for another picture to be sent. He absolutely could not risk having a repeat of the day before, where a picture came in while he was in the middle of a meeting and he got distracted by it. He was trying to be a serious CEO, and drooling over pictures on his phone was not a way to accomplish that.

So he’d waited for another picture to be sent. And waited. And waited some more. And nothing ever showed up in his inbox.

To say he was disappointed was an understatement. He looked forward to the pictures, even if the woman in them sported brown locks instead of the light golden ones he’d come to prefer. The pictures were gorgeous, and there wasn’t a straight man alive who wouldn’t get turned on looking at them, regardless of whether they were of the object of his affection or not.

Which is not to say he wasn’t disappointed every time he recalled the brunette hair showing in that picture. He was crushed. So crushed that his brain was actively rejecting the idea that the pictures were not of Felicity. Oliver had to constantly remind himself that they were not from Felicity Smoak, no matter how much he wished otherwise.

The elevator dinged open, forcing his mind away from the pictures and back into the present. As he stepped out, he saw Felicity standing with her back to him, curls tumbling loose down her back.

His breath caught in the back of his throat. Her typical, sleek ponytail was absent, apparently traded for a mess of haphazard curls. He’d never seen her hair like this and he absolutely loved it.

Seeing it loose down her back, each defined curl skating across her shoulders, Oliver couldn’t help the direction of his thoughts. He imagined striding over to her, putting his arms around her waist and burying his face into that curly mess. Lowering his hands to her hips and using them to spin her body around, capturing her lips with his as he pushed his fingers into her hair. Watching those gorgeous curls as they twisted around his fingers, refusing to let go.

With that image in his head, he let out a breathy, “Good morning.”

She turned around as the words left his lips and he was caught again by the way the curls perfectly framed her face. His legs automatically carried him closer to her, and without any conscious thought on his part, his hand raised to her face and tucked an unruly curl behind her ear. “You look nice today.”

Realizing how that could be interpreted, he continued on before Felicity could have a chance to speak. “Not that you don’t always look nice. You do. I just meant that I’ve never seen your hair curly like this before. It suits you. Anyway...” He trailed off to get himself to stop talking. This must be what Felicity felt like every time she started ranting about something embarrassing.

The curl he’d tucked behind her ear came loose again, catching his eye. The golden color was perfect. It reminded him once again of the brunette locks of his mystery woman and the pangs of disappointment hit him again.

Trying to stop the emotions broiling in his stomach from showing on his face, Oliver let his gaze travel the space around them. His eyes caught on the flowers she’d received yesterday.

“Those are some nice flowers.” Wow, that sounded lame even in his head.

“Thanks. They make the space a little more cheery, don’t you think?”

“I think your desk was perfect the way it was. With _your_ decorations and colors.” Okay, he realized he sounded like a petty jerk. He tried to save himself a little face by adding, “But the flowers are nice, too.”

There was a long pause before Felicity responded, and when she did it sounded more like a question than a statement. “Thanks?”

”Of course. Who sent them?” He tried to go for a casual quality to his voice, but he was pretty sure he failed.

“I’m actually not sure. There wasn’t a card. Digg thinks it was Bruce Wayne as some kind of happy-to-be-working-with-you-on-the-project type of gift.” There was something weird about the tone of her voice but Oliver couldn’t put his finger on it.

He forced the words out of his mouth through a clenched jaw at the reminder of Bruce Wayne “That’s nice, I guess.”

He definitely noticed the way Felicity wouldn’t meet his eyes when she responded, “I guess so.”

He wasn’t allowing her to get away with that. She was definitely hiding something from him and he was going to find out what it was. He tried to coax the issue out of her by gently saying, “Felicity?”

There was another pause. She still wouldn’t look at him, even when she finally responded, “Yeah?”

Before Oliver could push her for a reason why she was acting so strangely, the elevator dinged and Digg walked into the space, greeting Oliver and Felicity with a cheery greeting, effectively bursting the bubble that Oliver and Felicity were in.

Oliver reaches down and checks his phone again. It’s the first time since he’s been at the office that he checked for another message, but it won’t be the last of the day, for sure. No new message. Damn.

Oliver removed himself to his office. Diggle hugged Felicity good morning and then followed Oliver into the glass-walled space. Oliver checked his phone again under his desk, hoping that it wasn’t so obvious. No new message still. He set his phone down and instead started to prepare for the next meeting that he hadn’t missed yet.

* * *

“He kept checking his phone the whole time. I doubt he even heard a word of my proposal.”

This was the fifth person to come out of a meeting with Oliver complaining that he was distracted by his phone the whole time. Felicity felt terrible when she finally realized the reason he was checking his phone was to see whether she’d sent him another picture.

However, she’d resolved herself to not sending another picture today, no matter how distracted and frustrated Oliver became. She was worried that if she gave him too many photos in too little time, he might start piecing together different things and come to the realization that the photos weren’t always consistent. And then he might start questioning things. She couldn’t have that. So she wouldn’t be sending another photo for a few days.

As the day wore on, that resolve was greatly tested, but she held strong. Oliver got more and more irritable with every passing hour, and Felicity overheard many more people complaining about his brusqueness and level of distraction.

Finally at the end of the day, Oliver and Diggle exit the former’s office together and Felicity overheard Digg ask who kicked Oliver’s puppy.

That was an apt description of the expression Oliver had worn around the office all day. She couldn’t stop herself from giggling, earning her a calculating stare from Oliver. She tried to shrug it off, raising her shoulders and letting them fall back down nonchalantly, she hoped. “What? That’s an accurate description of mopey Oliver today.”

Realizing that she wasn’t supposed to know why he looked like someone had taken his favorite toy and smashed it, she quickly tacked on a “What gives?” directed to Oliver.

In response, Oliver gave a gruff, “Nothing. Just a bad day.”

Choosing to accept that answer rather than push, especially since she knew what the issue was anyway, she suggested that they all head out to their night job.

Oliver begged out of the elevator ride with Digg and Felicity, mumbling something about a phone call and that he’d meet Digg in front of the building.

Alone, Digg broke out the topic that he couldn’t discuss in front of Oliver. “Any more flowers?”

“Nope. Not today. You’re right – it must have been a gift from Bruce.”

“You _do_ know that Oliver will lose his mind if he hears you call Wayne ‘Bruce,’ right?”

Confusion flitted across Felicity’s features; why would Oliver care how she referred to Bruce Wayne?

“Why? He _is_ Bruce Wayne. What does it matter what I call him?”

“First names are _familiar_ , Felicity. It tells everyone that you’re closer than just working on a project together. It’s like a neon sign advertising that you’re comfortable together.” The amused expression that crossed Digg’s face clued Felicity in slightly to what the man was trying to insinuate, but Felicity was having none of it.

“Okay… And?”

She made sure to throw just a little bit of skepticism and sarcasm into her tone, subtly trying to remind Digg that she and Bruce _did_ know each other outside of work, even though John doesn’t know the full extent of their relationship.

“ _AND_ Oliver won’t like that. He’ll get insanely jealous. Just look at how badly he reacted to the flowers Wayne sent you.”

“He didn’t.”

There was a long pause while Diggle stared at her incredulously, like he couldn’t believe the words that had just left her mouth. “Are you blind, Felicity? His anger and jealousy were through the roof. I don’t think it’s possible for him to be more obvious about his feelings without his head literally exploding.”

“Figuratively. Anyway, I’ll give you the anger. But he was mad at me for leaving the way I did without giving him the file for his meeting with Bruce. Wayne. Bruce Wayne. Now they all sound awkward to me – thanks for that!”

Shaking his head at her incomprehension, Diggle turned to logic to try and get Felicity to understand. “Felicity, the file was on his keyboard.”

“I know. I put it there. He’s the pain in the ass that couldn’t find it.”

“No. Felicity. The point is that he had it the whole time. He wasn’t angry at you leaving, he was worried about you, like me. The anger was definitely directed at Wayne’s flower delivery.”

Dammit. She _knew_ that’s where he was going with this. She just absolutely could not get her hopes up about this. She’d thought there was a spark between them, but he’d shut that down with his sex with Isabel and the not being with someone he could care about.

“You’re crazy, Digg. Oliver likes his tall brunettes with legs for days in slinky black dresses who fit in with his billionaire lifestyles. Not blonde, babbling, passably cute computer geeks who can’t even tell you which bread plate belongs to which seat at a dinner party.” Hearing herself voice it out loud made her feel like the biggest imposter ever. Who was she to be sending pics like that to Oliver Queen? She definitely wasn’t his type. She was an idiot.

“You really don’t see yourself clearly, girl.” Digg pulled her into a one-armed hug.

The elevator door opened, saving Felicity from having to respond. She wasn’t sure she’d have a response that wouldn’t piss Diggle off.

They parted ways; Felicity turning right to head to her portion of the garage while Diggle made a left toward the town car that he needed to pull around front to pick up Oliver.

* * *

Diggle pulled up to the curb in the town car, where Oliver was waiting on the sidewalk. Without waiting on Digg to get out and open the door to keep up appearances, Oliver pulled open the door and lowered himself into the back seat.

Frowning, he pulled his cell phone out of his pocket to check his phone again. Just in case he didn’t feel the vibration. Or hear the special ring tone. Still nothing. Who was he kidding? There wasn’t going to be another message this time, just like there hadn’t been any of the other hundred times he’d checked his phone.

He let out a sigh and tilted his head back to rest against the seat, frustrated. How could the simple lack of a message affect him so miuch?

Obviously, Diggle noticed Oliver’s less-than-enthusiastic mood from all day. “So I take it that you haven’t received another picture yet today, huh?”

“Is it that obvious?”

“Man, at least seven people complained about you checking your phone throughout the meetings today. And those are only the seven I heard talking afterward.”

Fuck. He thought he’d at least been subtle enough about it that no one had noticed. He was very obviously losing his grip over all of these pictures. Why couldn’t she have put him out of his misery and sent him another one today? At least then he would’ve been able to be a productive member of the company. Did she just give up on him? Is that why? Maybe she’d been looking for a response and hadn’t received one, so she decided it wasn’t worth her time anymore.

Why did this internal monologue feel so familiar? Oh right, because he’d freaked out the last time she’d failed to send something, too. He seriously needed to pull himself back together.

“I just don’t understand. I got two yesterday. Two. But nothing today? It doesn’t make any sense.”

Digg humored him, letting him vent his frustrations so that hopefully he’d be on his game at the lair tonight. “Maybe she sent the second one on accident? That would mean one yesterday and one today, like normal. Or maybe she’s just trying to keep you off your game.”

Oliver snorted. “It’s working.”

“If you’re too distracted, then we shouldn’t go out tonight. You need to be focused out there. If you aren’t, or you’re checking your phone every twenty seconds, you could get yourself hurt.”

“No. I’m fine. I need to hit something.”

Diggle spent the rest of the journey to the foundry trying to talk to Oliver, discourage him from going out tonight, but they arrived at the lair before Oliver agrees to stay in and train. Oliver barely let Digg stop the car behind Felicity’s Mini Cooper before he was jumping out and heading downstairs.

Eight hours later, Oliver realized that Digg was right, as usual. He definitely should not have gone out tonight. He was not on his game, just like Diggle said. He’d checked his phone so many times that he was surprised the battery life hadn’t completely run out yet. And he had the bruises to attest to his distraction.

If he was being honest with himself, he wanted additional pictures for more reasons than just ogling them. He kept hoping for them because he wanted more clues to this woman’s identity. And he figured the more of herself she revealed to him, the better the pieces would fit together in his mind, and he might be able to figure out who she is.

But, in the absence of more photos, he was having other issues. His mind would not stop filling in the rest of the images with Felicity. Every explicit dream he’d had in the past week had featured her without fail. Twice, he’d woken hard as a rock after dreaming of caressing every inch of Felicity’s skin with his lips, using his teeth to pull down the thigh high stockings that had featured so prominently in the last photo, and then burying himself in her while burying his face in her hair. It had gotten to the point where he’d been forced to take multiple showers, getting himself off each time, hoping that it would be enough to tire him out so he could get some real sleep.

After he’d come with Felicity’s name on his lips, he still hadn’t been able to rest.

Truthfully, he needed another picture to give himself something else to focus on instead of his growing feelings for Felicity Smoak. She was just so incredible, sexy, fun, adorable. He could go on and on about how fantastic she was. He was falling more and more for her every day, even while he was lusting after the woman in the photos. But without a picture today, his brain was worse than normal when it came to Felicity. He noticed everything; the curl of her hair, the blue hue of her eyes behind her dual-colored glasses frames. The way her dress accentuated every perfect curve of her body.

Wow, he really needed another picture if he was going to keep himself in check.

It was just bad luck for him that another picture wouldn’t be forthcoming for three more days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There you have it! Chapter 7 is up. Chapter 8 is about halfway done, so it _should_ be done and posted for your viewing pleasure much earlier than has been my norm lately.
> 
> Don't forget that I give Sneak Peeks on [Tumblr](http://thebookjumper.tumblr.com). If you want to be tagged in them, leave a reply or message and I'll make sure you're included on the next go around.
> 
> The pictures for the previous chapters can be found on [Pinterest](http://www.pinterest.com/thebookjump1732/picture-perfect/). Sorry for the lack of picture this time, but there will be one with the next chapter. Promise!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What is this? An update? Already?!
> 
> So, instead of a Sneak Peek, I decided to just post the full chapter. I hope that's okay. It is? Wonderful.
> 
> New picture this week, too, and it's a little different from the previous ones. Let me know your thoughts!
> 
> Here's the thing about this chapter: I find out the results of the bar exam tomorrow and I have myself convinced that I'm going to fail. Hard. That being said, I'm probably not in the best mindset right now to be writing and posting, so any mistakes are 100% on me - just let me know about them and I'll fix it.
> 
> Thank you to all you lovely people out there who send in reviews or messages telling me how much you love this story and sending me your predictions. They really keep me motivated to keep writing and I love trying to play a guessing game with myself as to how I think each chapter will be received by you guys. To any new readers: Welcome! I'm so glad you've decided to jump on the ride for this story!
> 
> Thanks to everyone who leaves kudos or subscribes!
> 
> And now - on with the story!

# Picture Perfect

### Chapter 8

It was Friday and Felicity had had enough.

Oliver had gotten broodier as the week went by, and even though he was good at hiding his emotions, other people were starting to notice. Which was bad. Very bad.

It was one thing for Felicity and Diggle to notice because they knew him so well, but Oliver was trying to keep Queen Consolidated from tanking, or worse falling into Isabel’s hands, in the wake of Moira Queen’s involvement in the Undertaking. To do that, Oliver needed people to actually _like_ him. And he wasn’t winning over anyone with that world-class frown he sported all day long.

Well, most of the day, anyway. Because something else had shifted in Oliver, too, Felicity had noticed. While he was generally broody all day, that would lighten significantly around her. He was being _touchy_ with her. Not that he never touched her because he did. She was well aware of the number of times he’d gently touched her shoulder while leaning over her to see her computer screen. But this had all started earlier in the week when she’d come in with her hair curly and down due to her lack of time in the morning, and he’d tucked a curl behind her ear.

From there, it had snowballed as the week had progressed. Instead of placing his hand on her shoulder and removing it, he’d let it linger a bit, and then trail it down her arm to her bicep before he’d release her, leaving a trail of goosebumps in his wake that she hoped had gone unnoticed. More than that, he’d started placing his fingertips in the small of her back when he escorted her through a door. Also, she was pretty sure he’d even run his fingers through the ends of her ponytail on purpose once.

It was thrilling. It was terrifying. It was messing with her equilibrium. It needed to stop.

She had a hard enough time keeping a check on her emotions without him confusing the issue. What she really needed was a reality check. Badly.

It was time to send another pic. She was desperate to cheer him up, get him back on track as the CEO, and most importantly to get themselves back to a normal level of touching, where everything wasn’t so _tense_.

Plus, when she sent another pic, she could use his reaction to remind herself that Oliver found her body attractive but still didn’t want a relationship with her.

It was a sick kind of vindication that she was looking for, really. She had started this because she wanted to prove to herself that she was sexy and that she could inspire a man, Oliver Queen even, to lust after her. After the men she’d been involved with previously had made it abundantly clear they were interested in her and using her for her brain, she’d needed proof for herself that her body wasn’t the problem.

And she had done that, to an extent. Oliver definitely found the pictures attractive. He wouldn’t be throwing a tantrum over pictures he didn’t like receiving, right?

Except, now she had the opposite problem from the norm. This time, the man liked her body and found her attractive, but wasn’t interested in her romantically. He spent a major chunk of his time with her and still didn’t classify her as someone worth pursuing a relationship with. That hurt worse than being used for her brain. Especially considering she’d spent the last year and a half flirting on the edge of being in serious like with him.

Was it so difficult to find someone who felt both things for her? Someone who wanted to listen to her talk tech, would watch Doctor Who marathons just because she liked the show, found her babbling and propensity toward innuendo to be endearing as opposed to off-putting. Someone who wanted to crowd her against a wall, push her skirt up her thighs, and rip her underwear off in his impatience for her.

With how touchy-feely Oliver had been all week, it had almost felt like he was trying to start something with her, but that was ridiculous. He’d never shown any interest in her before, so Felicity was absolutely positive that this increased physicality was due to the lack of pictures. The man was probably horny and looking to get it from anywhere. Even the geek girl that he typically wouldn’t look at twice.

Okay, she knew that wasn’t fair. Ollie might have been like that but Oliver was not that person, and she knew it. She blamed the thoughts on how much this increased contact between them was screwing with her. Which brought her back to needing to send the next picture. For his sanity and her own.

Sending another picture and seeing his mood level out and their relationship go back to normal would be exactly what she needed to remind herself that he only liked one of the aspects of her, not both, not the way she deserved to be wanted. And then maybe she’d be able to move on from this obsession with Oliver Queen and find a guy who could give her exactly what she craved.

Glad that the boys were on patrol and not in the lair, Felicity pulled out the burner phone so she could get this taken care of. The sooner the better. She’d had the picture loaded onto the phone for days, but she hadn’t brought herself to hit SEND yet. She wanted to dissuade Oliver from expecting the pictures to arrive on a schedule. If she could keep him on his toes, then it might throw his perceptive abilities off, allowing him to miss a few more details than normal, and potentially keeping her identity a secret because of it. It was also a little self-serving because she realized how hard of a time she had convincing herself to send the pictures every time, and this way she could do it when she worked up the nerve.

Resolved, she located the picture in the phone’s memory and set it up to auto-send to Oliver at 3 am. Both men usually returned to the foundry around that time on Friday nights after patrol, so Oliver wouldn’t be in any danger when his phone went off.

The nightmare she’d had the night before had spooked her. In it, she’d sent Oliver a picture, and his phone had vibrated in his pocket while he was on patrol, alerting the Triad members to his position where he was crouched down behind some wooden crates at the docks. They had gone to investigate and Oliver’s arrows had been no match for the automatic rifles. She’d woken up drenched in sweat, again, but this time out of fear instead of the arousal that was becoming typical of her nights.

Because of it, she was extra sensitive to the possibility that Oliver could get himself hurt over a stupid picture of her in some lingerie. His validation of her body was not as important to her as his life.

The benefit of the 3 o’clock in the morning time was that Oliver should be back in the lair with her when he received the picture. This would add another layer of protection for her identity, as he’d be in her presence again, having seen that she did not touch her phone to send him anything.

She hated that he’d spent so much time lost to the world on an island, or wherever he was, but occasionally it came in handy. His sheer lack of knowledge when it came to the technological advances of the last five years was really working in her favor right now because that added layer of security she’d just mentioned? Yeah, it only worked if he kept in the dark about the fact that you could set up messages to send automatically. Google help her if he ever discovered that functionality and what it could mean.

As soon as she’d set up the picture to send, she texted Veronica, Amy, and Kara a group message with two words:

**11:30:00 P.M.: Another tonight.**

The sheer number of emojis she received from each girl within two minutes of sending the text led her to believe two things about her friends: 1) they were way too invested in her lack of a love life; and 2) they were insanely creative.

Amy’s emojis took the cake, though. That girl had a flair for communicating dirty messages through emoji. Felicity’s particular favorite from this set was the combination of the pointing finger and the hand making the OK symbol. She’d made the finger point towards the OK symbol to make it look like the symbol for screwing that everybody made in the 8th grade. That girl needed a hobby.

All three women had been bothering her all week trying to get her to send more pics to Oliver. To the point that Felicity was starting to become suspicious of their motives. Normally, when one of their crew had a dilemma, everyone would give their input, listen to each other, talk things through and then support whatever decision the girl with the problem made without trying to push her in a different direction. This time though, each girl had texted her at least once a day asking if she’d sent it yet, begging her to let them know Oliver’s reaction to the next one, telling her to get on top of it, among other things. Maybe them being so pushy was actually part of the reason Felicity had delayed in sending another picture for so long. It felt almost like playing into their hands somehow.

But, that could just be her paranoia talking. Because her paranoia had shot through the roof the last few days.

She’d been feeling more and more like someone was watching her throughout the week. Even when she was alone in her apartment, she’d felt the need to double check the locks on her doors and make sure the blackout curtains she had were pulled tightly closed.

However, it _could_ all be attributed to the fact that she’d just watched a few of the scarier flicks that populated her extensive Blu-Ray collection. But she _had_ to. Halloween was right around the corner and it was her absolute favorite holiday.

It was the one holiday that didn’t remind her how utterly alone she always was. On Halloween, it didn’t matter that she didn’t have a boyfriend to celebrate with or a dad who loved her and made them a complete family. No one cared about those things on Halloween. It was about scary movies, haunted houses, and free candy. None of those things depended on anyone else to be part of it for her. That’s why Halloween was her favorite. It demanded that she get into the mood. But the movies might have helped a little too much with that.

Just thinking about some of the movies she’d watched over the last few nights gave her weird feelings about being alone in the lair. Realizing she was probably overreacting to every little thing in her life because of those movies, she took a few deep breaths and turned on a few more lights in the foundry. She’d feel better when Oliver and Digg got back, for sure.

She glanced down at her watch. It was still a few hours until they’d be back. She wasn’t sure if she’d make it that long.

Transferring all of the alerts to her tablet so she wouldn’t miss anything critical, she decided to head upstairs to Verdant to at least be around other people for a little while. She’d head back downstairs before the guys got back and it would be fine.

* * *

Returning to the lair with Diggle, Oliver wondered at the brightness emanating from the computer area. It wasn’t like Felicity to keep so many lights on this late at night. Normally as things wound down, Felicity would turn off more lights, like she was trying to prepare herself for the sleep that would be coming as soon as she could get home.

“Felicity?”

No response and she was nowhere to be found. That was definitely not like her.

Oliver and Diggle exchanged worried looks. Oliver ventured a little further into the foundry while Diggle went back upstairs to check if Felicity’s car was still outside and to scope out Verdant, just in case.

Oliver called out for her again, louder. “Felicity? Are you here?”

A rustling noise came from the direction of the bathroom and relief flooded his system. She’d just gone to the bathroom. She was fine. No reenactment of Texas Chainsaw Massacre here tonight.

He felt his phone vibrate in his pocket and decided to give Felicity her space to finish up in the restroom even though every fiber of his body wanted him to stay until he actually saw her and could verify her safety. He strode away from the bathroom back to the well-lit computer area and flopped down onto the mat with a dull thud. Only then did he actually look down at the notification on his screen.

It was from his anonymous messenger. He’d all but given up on his specter of a woman, thinking she must have lost interest as it had been so long since he’d received anything from her.

Excitedly, he clicked the message open.

The image on the screen floored him. Again. This picture was unlike the previous ones but in a way much different than the last image had been. Where that one had oozed sex appeal, this one was flirty and a little more tame while still decidedly sexy. And it was in color!

There was that gorgeous backside again. It was the first thing that stood out to him in the picture. The perfect curves of an insanely touchable, bitable ass once again graced the small screen of his smartphone. Only this time, rather than bare, the cheeks were clad in bright pink and gray lacey panties that covered only the top half of the round globes.

This was a huge departure from the previous pictures where all of the lingerie had been black or white, these were a splash of bright color over the milky skin. That was another thing, the color of her skin was slightly darker than he’d been able to guess from the previous black and white photos. She looked lightly tanned and toned, but that could just be from the lighting. Then there was the glass of red wine dangling from her left hand, right under the left cheek of her ass. It was mostly full, and she was holding with the tips of her fingers curled around the rim of the glass. Her other hand was resting just over the panty line, caressing her right hip. There was some kind of bracelet on her wrist, but he couldn’t make out any special detail about it other than it was black, maybe with a little bit of metal mixed in.

The worst (and best – definitely best) part of this picture was that it immediately called Felicity to the front of his mind.

This picture definitely fit her. Where the other pictures had screamed sexy, which Felicity definitely was, they’d lacked a bit of her spirit. That unique personality that he loved so much had been missing. But this picture? This one had both sides in spades. It touched on the downright sexiness of the woman while showcasing the fun, quirky girl he associated with Felicity Smoak; incredibly sexy and adorable cute all wrapped into one package. Not to mention that he knew for a fact red wine was Felicity’s go-to drink.

Earlier in the week, Oliver had practically begged the powers that be to provide more pictures from his secret admirer so he would have more evidence as to her identity. He wanted to prove to his mind that it wasn’t Felicity in those pictures so maybe he could get a little more sleep. He was well aware he’d been a cranky mess at work this week, and he blamed the inability to catch some shut eye on the fact that, every time he closed his eyes, he saw Felicity in each picture that had been sent to him. He imagined peeling those lacy thigh highs off her legs, kissing each inch of skin as he exposed it. He imagined the fuck-me heels falling to the floor as he lifted her into his arms and carried her through that open doorway. He imagined replacing her hands with his own to aid her in unhooking the bra and then laying her back onto that bed.

He couldn’t stop and he needed to. He’d started to be borderline inappropriate with touching Felicity this week, but he couldn’t help it. Something about the color of her eyes or the swaying of her hair would catch his eye and he’d immediately be thrown back to his dreams from the week. It didn’t help that the times touching her were the only times that he wasn’t a gloomy bastard. But he still couldn’t commit to a relationship with Felicity without putting her in serious jeopardy, and he wanted more for her than the kind of man he was; a murderer. He also didn’t want to hurt her by making her think that _they_ were a possibility. Hence the begging for the pictures; he needed the proof that it wasn’t Felicity.

Now, however, he was seriously rethinking the wisdom of all those wishes. Because viewing _this_ picture? All he could think about was Felicity. Of seeing how that red wine paired with her lips. Of using her navel as a glass.

He was still lost in those thoughts and staring at the screen on his phone when Diggle came racing back down the steps.

“Her car is still here. She’s not in the club. Where is she?” The man sounded almost panicked, and if Oliver hadn’t heard Felicity in the restroom earlier, he’d understand the sentiment completely. Guilt gnawed at him for not having thought to let Diggle know that Felicity was safe.

“In the bathroom. I heard her moving around in there a little bit ago so I came back out here to give her some space. Sorry, man.”

Diggle let out a huff of relief and shrugged his shoulders in Oliver’s direction, but something still seemed off with his friend. There was a tenseness in his shoulders that didn’t quite make sense considering that Felicity was okay.

“Okay. Well, I’m just going to check on her really quick.” He paused and looked Oliver up and down, his eyes searching for any difference. “You look better than you have the last few days. Get another pic finally?”

“Yeah. It just came through.”

Diggle tossed another look towards the bathroom, then turned his eyes back to Oliver. “Cool. Enjoy.”

There was definitely something off about Diggle. Oliver considered him as he walked toward the bathroom, noting the still-present tightness displayed in the way Diggle moved. His demeanor was off, too; had Digg ever said the word ‘cool’ before in his life?

His mind quickly lost that train of thought in favor of letting his imagination run wild with fantasies of Felicity wearing the bright pink panties in the latest picture, taking a sip of wine and letting it run from his mouth into hers. He was absolutely positive that wine tasted better with some Felicity mixed in.

He was so lost in his explicit visions that the raised voices didn’t immediately cut through his reverie. When they did, it was obvious to Oliver that he had missed something big.

“Don’t be ridiculous! It’s _fine_!” Felicity’s voice cut through the relative quiet of the lair.

“Felicity! It is not fine. It is _so far_ from fine.” Diggle never yelled. Ever. At Felicity, even less. He was the most even tempered man Oliver knew. Or at least he was able to keep his emotions in check better than anyone he knew. What the hell was going on?

“Just leave it be, Digg. I’ll let you know if I think it’s actually something to worry about.”

“STOP! I’m already worried.” Digg clenched his hands into fists and Oliver could see the man trying to bring his words and tone back under control. “Felicity. I found you shaking in the bathroom. It’s not okay.”

“Digg. It’s fine. I’m fine. Everything’s fine. I’m just overly sensitive right now. Leave it alone.” With that parting statement, Felicity stormed out from the back room and the second she came into Oliver’s line of sight, it was clear that she was anything but okay. She was visibly trembling and the skin around her eyes was tinged red like she’d been crying.

Oliver tossed his phone to the side and went to stand near her. Without waiting for her reaction, his hands shot to her shoulders to halt her determined gait, and he used her momentum shift to pull her into his chest, holding her tight against him.

He wrapped her in his arms, placing one hand around her waist and the other on the back of her head holding her close. “Hey, hey. What’s wrong?”

Felicity gave no verbal response but he could still feel the tremors passing through her small body. Had she always been this tiny? Or was she just curling in on herself?

“Felicity? Hey. Talk to me. Tell me what’s wrong. And don’t say—“

“Nothing.”

“—Nothing. It’s not nothing. You’re shaking. What is it?” He was desperate. Something was very, very wrong with his blonde IT genius, but she wouldn’t let him in. Wouldn’t let anyone in from the sound of it.

“I’m fine. Let me go.” Her tone was steady where her body was anything but.

“No. I can’t help if you won’t tell me what’s wrong. Please, Felicity.”

Instead of answers, Felicity pushed Oliver backwards unexpectedly, forcing him to let her go or risk both of them falling to the floor. He felt the loss of her warm body pressed against his acutely. It felt like she’d forcibly ripped a piece of his heart out of his chest. A piece he hadn’t even known existed. He instinctively reached out for her again.

“I don’t need your help. Either of you.” She tossed a glare at Diggle who had just re-entered the room after presumably taking some time to calm himself down. “I’m perfectly capable of handling my issues myself. I’m just freaked because I’ve watched a few horror movies lately. That’s all. Now, I’m tired and I’m going home.”

She pivoted on one high heel and marched up the stairs, heels clanging on the metal as she went.

Oliver turned to look at Diggle. “You going to tell me what that is all about?”

Diggle’s expression was conflicted as his eyes shot to the stairs where Felicity’s steps have stopped. She was clearly waiting to hear Diggle’s response. Keeping his eyes on Felicity for another second before finally meeting Oliver’s look of desperation, Diggle responded, “Not my story to tell. But I think _someone_ should take things a little more seriously.”

Apparently appeased that Diggle wouldn’t reveal anything she didn’t want Oliver to know, Felicity continued up and out of the lair.

With the resounding thunk of the metal door shutting behind Felicity, Oliver turned to Diggle obviously expecting an explanation now that Felicity left.

“Sorry, man. I won’t break her trust like that, but maybe you should ask her what’s going on.”

Oliver could feel the anger building. “I tried, Digg. She won’t talk to me.” But Diggle knew. Of fucking course Felicity talked to Diggle and not to him. Oliver had never felt so helpless. It was one more thing that Felicity shared with Digg and not with him. Why would she share anything with the man that ran away when things got difficult? She wouldn’t.

“Maybe she would if she knew you actually cared, Oliver.”

The flat delivery of those words cut Oliver to the quick. It was like Diggle knew that this was the problem. There was no guessing. Maybe Felicity had shared this with Diggle, too. 

No. That couldn’t be it. It made no sense. Felicity had to know Oliver cared about her. There was no way she couldn’t know that, right? He’d practically spelled it out to her when he’d told her he couldn’t be with someone he could really care about. He meant her. Obviously. She had to know. Diggle had to be wrong. “I care! She knows I care.”

Digg shook his head at Oliver. “Does she? She knows you need her for the mission. She knows you value her help in saving the city. But she doesn’t know how you feel about her. She doesn’t know you actually care about _her_."

The vehemence behind Digg’s words made Oliver rethink. He’d never even considered the idea that Felicity didn’t know that she was more to him than a means to save Starling. It was so obvious to Oliver that he’d taken it for granted that she had to know, too.

Realization dawned in Oliver’s eyes as he thought through the words. And Diggle must have seen that recognition for himself because he immediately let go the rest of his anger. “Maybe try telling her how you feel. If you open up to her, she might reciprocate and tell you what’s going on with her.”

With that parting remark, Diggle exited the foundry, too, leaving a confused and distraught Oliver alone with his thoughts, wondering what was going on that the two most important people in his life were keeping from him.

* * *

After being convinced that Diggle wouldn’t spill her secret to Oliver, Felicity made her way topside. Venturing carefully over to her car, being hyper-vigilant in checking that she was alone, she crossed to the front of her Mini Cooper.

The bouquet of yellow flowers ornamenting her hood contrasted with the bright red of her car. These flowers were much different from the last bunch. They were bright yellow with petals almost in three sections. Near the center, a multitude of tiny red dots decorated the petals of each flower.

These tiny details were new to her. She hadn’t been able to get a proper look at them when the bartender had handed them over to her inside at Verdant. She’d gone pale, she was sure, but she’d graciously accepted the blossoms from the man before throwing some cash on the bar to pay for her drinks and running back out into the alley behind the club. From there, she’d hurriedly tossed the flowers onto the hood of her car before running back into the relative safety of the foundry. It now felt like the most comforting place on earth, in direct contradiction with the feelings that’d had her escaping the lair a few hours before.

With her shaking hands, Felicity reached for the flowers, removing them from her car and tossing them into the dumpster behind Verdant.

She squared her shoulders, wiped her eyes, and slid into the driver’s seat of her Mini. Who could be sending her flowers?

It could still be Bruce. He knew she spent most of her weekend nights at Verdant. She’d told him Thea Queen was an Arrow-sympathizer who let Felicity set up a computer in one of the offices. He could still be working the Make-Oliver-Jealous angle that he’d threatened so many times before, knowing that if Oliver’s little sister saw Felicity getting sent flowers at Verdant, the news would make it back to Oliver.

It could be one of her idiot friends, too, with much the same goal in mind.

She refused to think of the other possibility. He was in jail. The lacrosse player was in Canada now. It couldn’t possibly be.

She’d think about it tomorrow. For right now, she was scared and tired, and she wanted nothing more than a nice glass of red wine and a cold pillow for her bed. In fact, she was pretty sure she still had part of the bottle from the photoshoot last weekend sitting on her counter. Yeah, she’d calm herself tonight and worry about logic and reasoning tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's a wrap on another chapter of Picture Perfect.
> 
> Will we find out who is sending Felicity flowers? Will Felicity keep sending cute pictures or will she go back to sexy ones or will she completely lose her nerve and stop sending them altogether? Will the next color of her lingerie be highlighter orange? Tune in next time to see!
> 
> To view the picture associated with this Chapter and the other chapters, check out the [Pinterest Board](http://www.pinterest.com/thebookjump1732/picture-perfect/) for this story.
> 
> I'm also on [Tumblr](http://thebookjumper.tumblr.com) where I (typically) post Sneak Peeks before releasing an entire chapter. If you want to be tagged in the posts announcing Sneak Peeks and Updates, just reply to the post asking to be tagged or send me a message and I'll be happy to comply.
> 
> Don't forget to leave feedback letting me know what you thought of this chapter!


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi Everyone! I'm back!! 
> 
> I'm so sorry it's been so long. I know I said I'd get back to regular updating when things calmed down from my cross-country move, but things definitely have not calmed down yet. And most of that is due to the news I have to share with you:
> 
> I PASSED THE BAR EXAM!!! Thank you so much to everyone for the confidence and well-wishes you posted for me. They meant the world to me while I was freaking out and having nightmares about failing. I had to check my name on the list five times to make sure I wasn't actually hallucinating it. What list you say? Oh, the list that they post on the website for the whole freaking world to see. Hence the large amounts of freaking out. Because if your name isn't on that list? Everyone knows. Because everyone gets to check and see. Talk about terrifying.
> 
> But after I passed, work stepped up their game, meaning I had significantly less free time to actually write.
> 
> I've also discovered another thing about myself through this process: I cannot write short chapters. Anything less than 4,000 words feels like it doesn't accomplish enough to me. But this chapter? This is a behemoth because I had so much I wanted to get done. At 4,000 words I was only covering maybe 20 minutes of time or so. Hence this 12,000+ word chapter.
> 
> And I wanted to get it out to you as quickly as possible, so I didn't do a whole lot of editing. To that end, if you find something - message me and I'll change it!!
> 
> I hope everyone enjoys this chapter. If you do - let me know in the comments!

# Picture Perfect

### Chapter 9

He’d spent another night restless. But this time, it wasn’t for the normal reasons involving dreams of devouring his blonde genius. No. Last night, he’d been plagued by the realization that something was wrong with Felicity Smoak and she wouldn’t share it with him.

Digg’s reprimand last night about Felicity having no idea that Oliver cared for her as more than an instrument of his mission had struck a chord deep within him. Although he couldn’t be with her romantically because of the danger that would put her in and the fact that she deserved better than some damaged, rich, almost-reformed playboy, he also couldn’t bear the thought that Felicity didn’t know he felt more for her than that.

Over the sleepless night, Oliver had come to the realization that Diggle was right: Oliver needed to show Felicity what she meant to him. That’s what friends did, right? They could be friends. Even if that word didn’t describe half of what he felt for her. Even if that would never completely satisfy him.

Resolved to change the current state of affairs, Oliver got out of bed, got dressed, called in an order from his favorite breakfast spot, and headed out.

Half an hour later, he was knocking on Felicity’s door, take-out bags weighing down his left hand and a travel container of coffee in his right. He supposed it wasn’t so much knocking on her door as it was kicking it seeing as his hands were full.

He could hear movement behind her door, but it was a quiet and slow, almost lazy, shuffling noise, followed by a call of, “Who is it?” followed by more muffled shuffling.

Oliver couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face at hearing Felicity’s voice still obviously clouded from sleep. The smile was present even though he felt mildly guilty for not realizing the Felicity was a late sleeper on Saturdays, but the guilt was overshadowed by the thrumming anticipation in his chest at the prospect of developing another layer of closeness in their relationship.

“It’s Oliver. Open up. I brought coffee!”

“Oh FRAK!” A whisper came from the other side of the door. Oliver was pretty sure he wasn’t supposed to hear that, which only caused his smile to broaden. “Just a second, Oliver!”

There was more movement, a loud bang followed by more words that he couldn’t make out, and then finally the metal grind of the Felicity turning the locks on the door.

The heavy door swung open, revealing Felicity to him, and, holy shit. He knew she was gorgeous, but he was completely unprepared for what seeing her in her pajamas would do to him. She was wearing a thin, deep purple tanktop with and a pair of tiny pajama shorts that had cupcakes all over them. With the shorts not even reaching the middle of her thigh, Oliver had an unobstructed view of mile-long, perfectly toned and contoured legs. Legs that he wanted to feel hooked around his waist.

Instead of being pulled up into her typical sleek ponytail, her hair was loose and curly around her face, a few wisps curling around the plastic frame of her glasses. Her eyes seemed to be bluer than normal, but it took him a few seconds to realize why. Her face was completely devoid of makeup, and she was even more stunning for it. Her bare lips, that he’d never seen before, were naturally a dusty pink color that perfectly suited her. He almost wished she’d never wear lipstick again so he could see those lips in their natural state all the time. Almost. Be he had to admit there was something about her brightly colored reds and pinks that he found intensely attractive as well.

His fingers twitched with the want to lace into her curls, pushing them out of her face so he could have an unencumbered view of her fresh countenance. He was damn lucky that his hands were full because his arms had actually lifted up on their own to listen to his unspoken desires, but with the container of coffee and bags of food hanging from his hands, it looked like he’d just meant to offer them to her.

“You brought breakfast, too?”

Oliver brought his focus back on the conversation. “Yeah. I figured it wasn’t smart to come over without coffee and food.”

”You’re definitely right about that. Especially at this time of the morning. Seriously, Oliver. It’s not even nine yet!”

Oliver shrugged his shoulders sheepishly. “I was up. It didn’t occur to me that you weren’t awake yet. I had you pegged for a morning person the way you’re always so cheery in the mornings at work. You always beat me into the office, which, considering how little I actually sleep, is pretty impressive.”

“I _am_ a morning person during the week. My weekend sleep-in _allows_ me to be chipper that early during the week,” Felicity mumbled grumpily, a frown settling over her features as she yawned and rubbed her eyes, forcing her glasses up her forehead.

That small movement drew Oliver’s attention to Felicity’s baby blues. They were usually so sparkly, shining with some kind of emotion; happiness, excitement, anger. That last one was usually directed at him. But right now? Right now her eyes were dull which was terrifying by itself, but without her makeup on he could see the darkness surrounding those eyes. It looked like she hadn’t slept well at all. The guilt trickled back into his consciousness as he realized he might have woken her from some of the decidedly few hours she might have gotten.

But that was why he was here, right? To find out what it was that Felicity and Diggle were keeping from him. To show her he cared about her problems, too. New determination sprung in his chest as he handed the breakfast bags over to Felicity.

“Sorry for interrupting your sleep. Coffee?” He held up the travel coffee container and gave her his best puppy dog expression. The one that Ollie had used to get Laurel’s forgiveness after every indiscretion. It had served him very well then, and he was hoping it would be effective in getting Felicity to forgive him for this minor intrusion.”

“Sure. I like a lot of cream.” She bit her lip and it was like he could see the gears working in her head trying to prevent her from saying whatever was about to come out of her mouth next. Trying, but failing. The familiar tug of a smile lifted the corner of Oliver’s mouth in preparation. “In my coffee. You know, where cream goes. Not that there aren’t other things that you can put cream in. Because there definitely are. Only the dirty ones come to mind right now though, which is unfortunate. But I know that there are other places you can put cream in besides me.” Her eyes widened comically and he would have laughed at her expression if he hadn’t been so busy picturing acting out her words. “In _someone_. Not me.” She scrunched her eyes shut and had to physically put her hand over her mouth to stop herself from talking. He wanted to grab it away from her lips so he could hear her talk dirty some more, albeit unintentionally.

After a long pause, she let out a huge breath and turned her back on Oliver. He watched as her long, practically bare legs carried her across the room where she unceremoniously plopped herself down onto a couch. She closed her eyes again and then shifted so she was laying on the couch with her knees bent over the arm rest.

His mouth went dry as her already tiny shorts rode up higher on her creamy thighs, giving him a gorgeous view of more of her skin than he’d ever been treated to viewing before. And with her eyes closed, he was free to let his gaze travel the revealed expanse without fear of being caught.

Why can’t legs be more unique? Seeing Felicity’s limbs like this, they fit the images he’d been sent perfectly. But legs were legs were legs, and without any identifying features to help him he was sure that any woman’s legs were probably the same. No scars, birthmarks, or any other visible blemishes marred his view, and he knew from hours of study that there were none visible in any of the pictures, either.

Plus, he had to remind himself, it wasn’t like his mystery sender was Felicity anyway. Sending that type of risqué picture wasn’t really her style, and he knew that even if it was, she’d never risk sending something like that over unsecured cell signals where anybody with half her talent might be able to intercept them. And he’d never want that, either. He couldn’t fathom some other man looking at Felicity dressed like that.

He shook himself as his thoughts turned murderous quickly. He was with Felicity now, and he wasn’t going to let some half-brained thoughts about other people seeing Felicity in lingerie ruin the time he was actually spending with her. He couldn’t let those thoughts distract him from his goal, either.

And, if he didn’t get moving on the coffee, Felicity would start to get suspicious and potentially catch him staring. Devouring. Because those thighs looked delicious. And he was sure that what was between them would be just as incredible.

 _Stop it_ , Oliver chided himself. He had an objective to accomplish and it wasn’t daydreaming about going down on Felicity, no matter how badly he wanted to continue with that train of thought. Instead, he allowed his gaze one more run down her legs from the very end of her shorts through to her bright blue toes. He allowed himself to think of how adorable and unpredictable the color was, as he began opening cupboards looking for two coffee mugs.

Every girl he’d been with had always had toe nails painted some variation of red; bright red, to neon pink, to a deep burgundy depending on the season, it was always red. Now, seeing Felicity’s electric blue toes, something tugged at his heart at her uniqueness. She was too good, too sweet, too perfect. Everything about her was unlike anything about any other girl he knew. She was so special.

Even her coffee mugs, that he had just located after searching through the majority of her cupboards, were unique. One of them looked like it was dirty on the inside, but upon closer inspection, the dirt seemed to take the form of a dog or something. And on the front of that mug, the words “My dear, you have the Grim” were printed in a hand-written font. The next mug he pulled out of her cabinet had some weird thing that looked like a deranged salt-shaker with a plunger and a whisk protruding from it, almost like arms, and another weird appendage that was bright blue. The words below that just said CAFFE-IN-ATE!

Every thing about Felicity was refreshingly new. She wasn’t afraid to just be herself, and Oliver found that he liked who that person was the more and more he saw of her. Every weird reference, every super technical explanation that spewed from her mouth, Oliver found himself wanting to be even closer with her. Wanting to understand her. To learn more.

Which is what made the knowledge that there was something going on with her and she was freezing him out even harder for him to deal with. Here he was, desperately trying to learn more about her world, and she was doing everything in her power to keep him from getting that knowledge. She even had Digg playing for her team to keep things from him.

With that thought, he grabbed the two mugs, one almost beige with the amount of cream in it. He smiled at the thought, remembering Felicity’s most recent ramble. Some day the things that spilled out of her mouth were going to kill him. He stepped back into Felicity’s living room, seeing the blonde still stretched out over the couch in a completely innocent and simultaneously obscene way. Only Felicity could pull off both at the same time. He smiled at her closed eyes, wondering if she’d drifted back off to sleep. Then he sat down on the plush chair across from her and set both mugs on the coffee table between them. He gently pushed hers toward her, but got no response. Not even a twitch. She’d definitely fallen back asleep if she wasn’t reaching for her coffee.

That pull at his heart was back full force. The fact that she felt comfortable enough with him that she could fall asleep knowing that he was in her apartment sent feelings of tenderness coursing through his whole body. He couldn’t believe how much he cared about this small, fierce, incredible woman. But basking in the glory of her presence wasn’t why he was here.

Leaning forward, a mischievous smirk on his face, Oliver took his pointer finger and traced it along a path on the underside of her foot from her heel to those perfectly painted toes.

With a gasp of panic, Felicity startled awake. Wide eyes turned on Oliver. “Did you - did you just tickle my foot?” The expression on Felicity’s face, a mixture of surprise and incredulity and a few others that he couldn’t begin to name, made it perfectly clear that she absolutely believed her impression of what just occurred to be completely wrong. It looked like that one small moment of whimsy on Oliver’s part had proved wrong everything Felicity thought she knew about the world. But, in a good way, he hoped. 

Not losing any of his devilish smirk, Oliver replied with a cheeky, “Maybe.”

Felicity’s jaw literally dropped open and hung there for a few seconds before she pulled it shut. Her brow creased on her forehead. “What?”

Instead of responding, Oliver leaned forward and did it again. Felicity gasped and looked at him with sheer disbelief. Then she pulled her legs back and righted herself on the couch, carefully tucking her feet under her where they couldn’t be reached. A look of annoyance crossed her face as she looked at Oliver. “Not cool.”

Oliver gave her a broad smile in return. “Well, I had to wake you up somehow. Your coffee was getting cold.”

At that, Felicity visibly brightened and looked at her coffee mug sitting on the table between them. A content sigh left her lips as her fingers curled around the warm mug. She brought it to her face and inhaled, smiling softly as she looked down at the liquid in the cup. Taking a big gulp, she smiled wide and then curled the mug closer into her body, cradling it close while she shifted into a cross-legged position on the couch. From there, she was able to balance her arm on one of her legs and keep the mug against her sternum where it could warm her through her thin tank top.

Oliver was jealous of the mug for a few seconds before he realized how ridiculous that was. Instead, he grabbed the bag of food and opened it, fishing out a small box of glazed doughnut holes and two boxes with real food. He’d ordered Felicity a stack of blueberry pancakes and himself an egg-white omelet. He had no idea how his food would be received, but he’d been witness to Felicity’s mega sweet-tooth on so many occasions that he was sure ordering her sweet food for breakfast wouldn’t steer him wrong. He pulled out her box and a set of take-away silverware and handed them to her.

“You really didn’t have to bring me food, Oliver.”

“Well, we didn’t grab food before patrol last night, and you didn’t stick around long enough for us to go to the 24-hour diner after patrol.” He gave her a pointed look, hoping to convey that he was serious about getting some answers regarding her swift departure.

She blushed and opened her food container. Thanks to her low-cut tank top, Oliver was able to see the blush from her cheeks extend all the way to the slight curve of her breasts that was visible before continuing, he assumed, down further. And if those perfect swells were any indication, he was pretty sure he’d love to see the rest of her body covered in that red, too.

His perusal was cut short by Felicity’s gasp. Her eyes shot to his as she asked him, “How did you know that blueberry pancakes are my favorite? And you even got extra blueberry syrup on top? Seriously. I don’t know whether to be in awe of you or terrified of your stalking. But I’m definitely glad to reap the benefits of it this morning.”

It was Oliver’s turn to blush. “I had no idea. I just made an educated guess, I swear. No stalking necessary.”

He’d worded that last part extra carefully because, under the technical definition, he _had_ been stalking her. At least a little. With how much he’d touched her over the past week, his protective tendencies had spiked as well. He’d taken to following her home after their time together in the lair, just to make sure she’d gotten into her apartment safely. He’d wait until he saw the lights turn on in her windows and then head back home himself. At least on most nights. Some nights he lingered, finding comfort in the view of her silhouette moving about throughout her apartment. Just knowing she was safe, and that the perfect possibility of her existed in the world even if he wasn’t willing to take that chance, was enough to soothe him. So he’d sit and watch. Hoping to catch a glimpse of her unguarded face.

Because she’d been so guarded in his presence lately. He wasn’t an idiot. He knew that it was partially due to the increased physical contact between them over the past week, but her guard was up way more than was warranted by some innocent touching. There was something else going on that had her on her toes. He was sure it was about whatever she and Digg were keeping from him, but he had no clue what had her so on edge. But, dammit, he was going to find out.

“Speaking of your quick departure last night. Anything you want to clue me in on, Felicity?”

“Ah. I was wondering when we would get to the bribery portion of this morning. I knew the pancakes had strings attached. Not literally, of course, because that would be so weird. Who would want stringy pancakes? That makes absolutely no sense.. It’s not like they’d make a good marionette puppet or anything.” She scrunched her eyes together adorably, obviously struggling to bring her mouth back under control. “Sorry, Oliver. My brain is so weird sometimes, puppet pancakes? That’s a new low. My filter is worse in the morning for future reference.”

He was about to jump in with some more questions when she started back up. “ _NOT_ that you’ll be needing that information. I mean, it’s not like you see me on mornings often. Other than for work. But by then I’m awake enough to have it slightly under control. It’s just worse first thing in the morning. Which you don’t see me in. Aside from this morning, obviously. Which you know because you’re here.” She let out a long sigh squeezed her lips together, presumably to stop more words from spilling out.

“Felicity. It’s fine. Your brain is wonderful and you should never apologize for it. And I like the lack of filter. Like Sara said – it’s cute.” He wished he could call the words back after they’d left his mouth. Doubly so after he saw her flinch, almost like his words had physically hurt her. He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t want to keep focusing on the words, because that would be focusing her on the fact that he found her cute. And guys didn’t say things like that about girls they didn’t want to date. He couldn’t have Felicity knowing how badly he wanted her. So he avoided rather than addressing them.

“Anyway. You were about to tell me what had you sprinting out of the lair last night.”

“Remember when I said it was nothing, Oliver? I didn’t say that for no reason. It’s nothing. I’m fine. Everything’s fine.” The words had more bite to them than he’d ever heard Felicity use before, and he’d been on the receiving end of her loud voice plenty of times. This was something different, and he hated it.

“It’s obviously not nothing, Felicity. You were _crying_. Digg might not be willing to tell me what’s going on, but it’s clear he’s worried. And he doesn’t worry over nothing. So if he’s worried, I’m worried. But I can’t help if you won’t tell me what I’m helping with. Please.” That last word came out like he was begging, which he supposed he was. He wanted Felicity to share everything with him. He wanted to be as much in tune with her life as Digg was.

He couldn’t tell her that it killed him to see how close she and Digg were. How they shared inside jokes and knew more about each other’s pasts than Oliver did. He knew now that running away from the team was the worst decision he could have possibly made after the Undertaking had gone down, but back then it had felt like the only choice. He’d failed the city, he’d failed his mission, and the team had felt pointless after all that failure. He’d run, never thinking he’d come back. Thinking the team would be done without him.

Obviously he was wrong. Digg and Felicity had tracked him down and brought him back. Felicity had used the money he’d given her to repair the lair. And she’d even had a new bow made for him. And that bow was perfect. He had no idea how she’d accomplished something so wonderful with zero knowledge of archery, but she had, and she was remarkable. And he couldn’t help but feel something for the gorgeous, sexy, adorable, sweet genius who had made his return as easy as possible.

But with that return, he’d noticed the increased closeness between Diggle and Felicity. They’d continued to spend time together when Oliver was M.I.A. , that much was obvious. And they’d grown close. Diggle had always worried about their ability to keep Felicity safe, but now it was coming from a place more like brotherhood than simple responsibility. They hugged now. Diggle’s eyes showed pride when Felicity accomplished something. They could communicate without words. And Oliver was suddenly on the outside of the team he’d put together.

He’d let himself grow complacent at his position. He’d let it all the inside jokes roll off of him, tried not to let it get to him that they had secrets from him. But that was all over now. With Digg’s talk last night, Oliver realized that his choice to let it go had led to Felicity, and maybe even Diggle, believing that they were only important to him for how they could help him save Starling when nothing could be further from the truth.

The truth was, Oliver needed Diggle and Felicity. Probably more than he could even admit to himself. They were the only two people who knew him for who he really was, rather than judged him against the idiot frat boy he used to be. To them, he was Oliver Queen, Starling City’s self-appointed savior. He wasn’t pretty-boy fuckup Ollie. And having two people who got that, who got him, meant everything to him. And he wanted to give that back to them. But he couldn’t do that if they wouldn’t let Oliver see the real them. And figuring out what was wrong with Felicity was his start to making her realize that he cared about her.

She’d been silent the whole time he’d been lost in his thoughts, which was surprising. It was a tried and true interrogation technique. Let the silence stretch out and let your informant get uncomfortable with its length. So uncomfortable that they felt the need to fill it. It usually worked. But apparently not on Felicity Smoak.

“Felicity. If something had you crying in the lair by yourself, I want to know what it is. I want to help you. Please let me in.”

More silence stretched before them. He just needed her to open up to him. If she’d let him help her, he could show her that her problems mattered to him just as much as his quest to save Starling City. He’d do anything he could to make sure she never had to cry alone again, if only she’d talk to him.

But she kept her mouth shut. Metaphorically, anyway. She was making a sizable dent in her stack of pancakes. Oliver suspected she was keeping her mouth full of pancake so she wouldn’t accidentally slip and let a babble come out about what was bothering her. Maybe the food hadn’t been such a good idea.

He waited until she met his gaze. Then he leaned forward, putting his elbows on his knees. “You’re important to me, Felicity. If something’s happening to you, if something has you scared, it matters to me. I want to fix it for you. Let me.”

At the sincerity in his voice, Felicity swallowed, her eyes never leaving his. It felt like she was looking for something in his expression. Searching for something. He saw disappointment flicker in her eyes before he could physically see her close herself off from him, and wondered what she’d seen to warrant such a reaction.

Finally, she opened her mouth, but her response was not what he was hoping for. “Look, Oliver. I’ll be honest. There is something going on. Obviously. But you don’t need to worry about it. I’ve got it completely under control. You have enough to worry about between your mother’s trial and Isabel trying to take over QC. You don’t need all of my issues on top of that.” Oliver opened his mouth to object, but Felicity just kept talking. “I’ll make you a deal. If it gets to the point where I don’t think I can handle it anymore, then I’ll tell you and let you try to help me. I can promise that. Okay?”

It was his turn to study her expression. She wasn’t lying from what he could tell. As much as he wanted to know, wanted to help, she didn’t want to be a burden to him. He could read that much truth in her face. He couldn’t figure out how to convince her that her problems would never be a burden to him. And he could tell that any words he offered wouldn’t change her mind, so instead of fighting any more this morning, he decided to take a different tack. He’d show her instead. “Okay.”

Seeing Felicity’s eyes bug out of her head would have been amusing had the circumstances been different. “Okay? That’s it?”

“Yep. That’s it. As long as you promise to tell me if you need me, I’ll let it go. But if I can tell it gets worse, we’re revisiting this, Felicity. I’m serious. Deal?”

“Deal.”

“Great. With that settled, let’s get back to enjoying our morning together.” 

* * *

Oliver Queen was in her apartment. Oliver Queen was in her apartment in the early morning. Oliver Queen is feeding her in her apartment in the early morning. Well, not feeding her, like physically. But he bought food and brought it to her. Oliver Queen brought her breakfast and is currently eating it in her apartment, with her, early in the morning.

The shock of the foregoing realization and the non-platonic ways she _wishes_ he was eating breakfast with her in the early morning, was probably what caused her brain to short-circuit and for her earlier, insanely inappropriate rant about liking cream.

Just thinking about it made her face burn. Well, that and the fact she wasn’t wearing a bra. Add to it that Oliver had just used the most loathsome word to describe her rants, and brought up Sara at the same time. Sara, the other ridiculously sexy woman who he’d been trapped on Lian Yu with, who could understand him in ways that no one else ever could. Sara had called her cute, and now Oliver was quoting that back to her. Seriously, if the world would just swallow her whole right now, that would be great.

And then he’d tried to get her to open up about her problems. Like that was going to happen right after he’d just insulted her. Granted, he didn’t know she’d see it as an insult. Usually cute was a _good_ thing, but to his questioning of her, it was basically a death sentence to his questions. Even if she would have considered opening up to him at first, that had shut down any chance he had of getting the story out of her.

She figured she’d shut him down with a quick truth about her having the issue under control, and accepting his help should she need it, and then he’d leave. Having received no answers and a vague promise to tell him eventually if she needed it. But he shocked the hell out of her.

He wanted to stay? And enjoy their morning together? He brain wouldn’t even touch that.

Her surprise kept her mouth, thankfully, shut. But what ensued after his announcement was a super awkward silence. One that left her too much time to think.

What the hell was up with the foot tickling? She honestly had thought she was imagining things at first until he did it again, purposefully leaning forward and running his finger along the underside of her foot. And he’d _laughed_. She didn’t know if he realized that or not, but he’d let loose a full-bellied laugh at her stunned reaction. And Felicity was pretty sure she’d never seen him do that before.

His entire face had lit up with joy, making him look nothing like the brooding superhero she’d gotten used to over the past year. She’d thought gloom-and-doom Oliver was sexy, but playful Oliver? He was gorgeous. Like drop-her-panties-right-then gorgeous.

Felicity didn’t know how to deal with that. Playful Oliver only existed in her dreams. Some of her best dreams, for sure, but only in her dreams.

Now, if this morning had been one of her dreams, she would’ve giggled and then launched herself into his lap, fingers attaching to his sides, just above his hips where her imagination had told her was Oliver Queen’s ticklish spot. He would jerk to the side under her touch, causing her fingers to skim along his hard abs. She’d smile back and slip her hands under his shirt, skimming them along his ticklish spots, pulling another laugh out of him. He’d retaliate by tickling the backs of her knees, forcing her body to arch closer to him. Then they’d peel off each other’s clothes off, trading smiles, laughs, and caresses.

But that was in her dreams. Here in reality, Playful Oliver Queen was a myth. He didn’t exist. So now, getting a glimpse of him? Felicity felt like her fairy godmother should be standing in front of her offering to give her the supercomputer of her dreams. It just wasn’t going to happen.

Or would it? Now that Oliver Queen had gone and shown his playful side, maybe a woman in a sparkling dress with a magic wand would show up offering her a head node, a few dozen identical computer nodes, a power distribution unit, a cooling unit, and everything else she’d need to build her own supercomputer.

“If you want to build a supercomputer, you don’t need a fairy godmother. Just tell me what you want and I’ll get it for you.” He gave her a gentle smile with a hint of amusement. FRAK! What exactly had she said out loud?

“Umm. Thanks for the offer, but I don’t really need one. It’s more of where my head goes when I’m thinking about impossible things. The computing power I’ve built into the foundry is good. We don’t need anything else.” She followed up her explanation with a big bite of blueberry pancake. If her mouth was busy, she couldn’t speak her thoughts out loud, and right now? That was a win. Because even with coffee it was still too early, and she’d spent the majority of the night tossing and turning.

“Oh. I didn’t mean for that. Just, if you wanted one for yourself, I’m here.”

In retrospect, she probably shouldn’t have taken such a big bite because when she choked on it, she choked hard. There was a lot of coughing involved. She was sure her face turned lobster red and splotchy from the strength behind her coughing fit. Talk about embarrassing.

When she finally got it under control, thanks in large part to the glass of water Oliver brought her sometime in the middle, she was able to respond. “Oliver. That’s like thousands of dollars.”

He shrugged. Literally shrugged at thousands of dollars. “And your point is? Felicity, I gave you a million dollars and you spent it getting the lair back up and running. It’s only fair that I give you something you want, too. I mean, even Diggle kept the money.”

No, actually. He didn’t. But Diggle was keeping her secret, so she wasn’t about to reveal one of his to Oliver. If Diggle had wanted Oliver to know that he’d donated the money Oliver left in his bank account to the charities collecting for efforts to rebuild the Glades and provide assistance to the survivors, he would’ve told Oliver himself. Truthfully, she hadn’t spent all of her million rebuilding the lair either, and every penny that was left, she’d donated, too. It was the least she could do after she’d failed to realize there was a second earthquake machine.

With that thought, the depression she’d become accustomed to after the Undertaking set back in. She had to deflect if she didn’t want Oliver questioning her reactions. “Seriously. Thanks for the offer, but no thanks. I don’t want your money, Oliver. I never have.”

An astonish look took over Oliver’s face, making Felicity wonder if anyone had ever told him they didn’t want something from the Queen family fortune. He had to know Diggle didn’t, either, but maybe actually hearing it out loud was a shock for him.

When he spoke, it was in a quiet, reserved voice, almost like he was afraid. “What _do_ you want, Felicity?”

Oh my Google, he was all about the tough questions today, wasn’t he? “I don’t know. The same things as everyone else, I suppose.”

“No.” He shook his head, adamant about her being different. “Most people want money. But not you. So what is it that you want?”

“Honestly? Just to be happy.”

“And what does it take to make Felicity Smoak happy?” He asked the question with a playful tone, but his face spoke volumes about how badly he wanted the answer to his question. Like whatever she answered, he would tangle with the Fates, swim in the river Acheron to make it happen. It took her breath away.

“I don’t really know, I guess.” She hesitated a little, trying to get her thoughts under control to provide him with a cogent response. With him looking at her like that, like he wanted to personally see to making all of her dreams come true, it was a little difficult to think straight. Luckily, she was able to voice something. “I think I just want to make a difference, you know? To know that _something_ was better because I was here. Even something small.”

Oliver was looking at her with such affection it felt like she could physically feel the warmth in his eyes as he opened his mouth, “Felicity, th—“ 

THEY CALL ME THE HIP-HOP-APOTAMUS

FLOWS THAT GLOW LIKE PHOSPHOROUS

POPPIN’ OFF THE TOP OF THIS ESOPHAGUS

ROCKIN’ THIS METROPOLIS

I’M NOT A LARGE WATER-DWELLING MAMMAL

WHERE DID YOU GET THAT PREPOSTEROUS HYPOTHESIS?

Just then, Felicity got her ringtone to turn off, but not before her cheeks flooded with warmth for what must be the thousandth time just this morning alone. She loved her ringtone, and normally she wouldn’t care who heard it, but right now, with the way Oliver was looking at her? Well, she definitely didn’t want to remind him of how nerdy she was. It had almost felt like he was seeing _her_ instead of tech support for a minute there. But with the ringtone forcing her nerdiness to the forefront of his attention, the harsh reminder of who she actually was shattered the bubble where Oliver Queen and Felicity Smoak might have a chance.

Without looking at the caller-ID, Felicity answered the phone, hoping that her dejected feelings weren’t readily apparent in her voice. “Hello?”

“Felicity? It’s Bruce.”

Of course it was. Because she definitely needed a complicated situation to deal with right then and there. “Oh!” She looked over at Oliver, eyes going wide. “Uh. Hi. Ummm. Mr. Wayne. How are you?” Smooth, Felicity. She turned her back on Oliver so hopefully he wouldn’t pick up anything about her familiarity with Bruce outside of the project at QC.

Bruce scoffed on the other end of the line. “Mr. Wayne? Seriously, Felicity? We’re way past that. I think you seeing my naked ass on screen when you first hacked into my computer system in the cave because you were curious about the Bat Man got us past that Mr. Wayne bullshit.” He paused when Felicity didn’t respond. “Oliver’s there, isn’t he?”

Part of her was happy he’d caught on while the other part of her was hoping Oliver didn’t hear anything about her seeing Bruce’s backside. “Uh. Yes. That’s correct.”

“Good for you! I’m glad he finally manned up. How was the sex?”

Could her face get any redder? Seriously. It was going to turn permanent any day now. At least she was faced away from Oliver. “Well, that’s not exactly…”

Bruce laughed. “Why else would he be there this early? You don’t have to hide it from me, Felicity. I’m excited. I promise to tell you when I finally make a move on Selina, if that makes you feel any better.”

“I’m not!

“Sure you aren’t. Anyway, I need your help.”

She wanted to keep arguing with him, explain to him that it wasn’t what he thought, but she couldn’t really do that with Oliver sitting four feet from her without letting on to any of the secrets she was currently keeping about Bruce Wayne. Instead, she had to settle for letting the topic drop. But that doesn’t mean she was going to make it easy on him. “I don’t know that I can do that.”

“I’m not asking for right now. Enjoy your morning after. I mean tonight.”

She was going to kill him. “Tonight? I can’t tonight.” And that wasn’t even a lie. She couldn’t get to Gotham tonight to help him out. Even if he sent the jet for her, like he’d done on a few occasions when he desperately needed her help, she was expected in the foundry and while she liked Bruce, her loyalties were to Team Arrow.

“Just computer stuff. Remember that guy whose phone you hacked to get me his location when the tracker malfunctioned? The organized crime syndicate he works for moved their base of operations again, and I need a new fix. Can you?”

“Oh! That’s – yeah, I can do that. Can I get you that information later today? When do you need it?” That sounded professional, right? She really hoped so.

“I’d like to head out around 10 pm. That work?”

“Yes. That should be fine.” Her boys would definitely be out of the foundry and patrolling by then.

“You’re the best. Now, take your shirt off and jump into Oliver Queen’s lap. That should speed things up a bit.” 

Motherfu – “BRUCE!”

He sounded entirely too thrilled with himself when he responded, “And she remembers my name! Bye, Felicity. Thanks for the assist.” Click.

She scowled at her phone for a few seconds before turning back around to face Oliver. In the place of the adoring look he’d worn before was an obvious lack of interest. The change was exactly what she had been dreading when her ringer went off.

She could kick herself. She knew better than to get her hopes up. The Oliver Queens of this world were not meant for the dorks with Flight of the Conchords ringtones and a TARDIS plush sitting their beds that she definitely did _NOT_ cuddle at night. Her mental scolding was interrupted with Oliver spoke next.

“So. How are you and Bruce getting along with the project?”

The way he’d emphasized ‘Bruce’ let Felicity know he’d caught that little slip-up. Dammit, Bruce Wayne. She would definitely be retaliating. She was pretty sure she could find Selina Kyle’s phone number. Maybe an anonymous text would throw a little chink in Bruce’s life the way he’d just done hers.

“Fine. Good, really. He’s been very attentive. _To the project!_ Not to me. Well, kind of to me since I’m the point-person on the project, but not attentive to me personally or anything when it comes to business stuff.” Yeah. He definitely bought that.

He cocked his eyebrow at her, letting her know he was onto her game of avoidance. “But in non-business ways?”

Felicity kept her mouth shut and let the silence creep between them. She didn’t want to lie to Oliver, but John’s warning of how poorly Oliver would take the knowledge of her relationship with Bruce Wayne played in her head. She would tell him that they knew each other. She wanted to. Just not like this. Not when she could see how angry he was already.

His eyes flashed with fury. “Right. You don’t have to deal with this anymore. You’re off the project.”

“What?! Oli—“

“No, Felicity. I won’t let you continue to be harassed by Bruce Wayne.” His hands clenched at his sides and she could see the clenching of his jaw that told her how hard he was trying to reign in his emotions.

“But, you can’t just – he isn’t –“ Thoughts swirled around in her head, but she couldn’t keep them straight enough to focus on getting one coherent thought out of her mouth. Just as she opened it to try again, Oliver cut in.

“Felicity. You shouldn’t have to put up with that kind of treatment. You’re off the project. That’s final.” Final? Oh, she’d give him final.

“Oliver Queen! How about you let me decide what I’m willing to put up with? Because honestly, Oliver? I already put up with a lot, so anything you _think_ you might know about how Bruce Wayne is treating me is _my_ concern. Not yours. You haven’t cared about how I was being treated at the office before. Don’t start now.” The words came tumbling out of her mouth before she could stop them.

That was a low blow. Way lower than she cared to think about. Rationally she knew that Oliver would care about the crap she was going through at QC if he knew. But he didn’t. Because she wouldn’t tell him. The man was trying to save an entire city, for Google’s sake, the professional miseries she had to deal with on a daily basis didn’t rise anywhere to that level of stress, and she refused to pile more things onto his plate. So she’d kept the biting comments from Isabel to herself. The stares and the gossip about blondes and her being a “mouthy little thing” and everything the word “mouthy” was used to imply, she’d buried.

After all, she knew she didn’t get the job because she gave Oliver blowjobs. Her blowjobs wouldn’t even rate a promotion if her previous boyfriend was to be believed. She knew it, Oliver knew it, Diggle knew it, so what did she care what anyone else thought? Why would it even matter?

Except it had mattered to her. She had two master’s degrees from MIT. She was worth more than an Executive Assistant. The fact that people thought she needed to get on her knees to become a secretary when her intellect had made her one of the most sought-after candidates graduating in 2009 twinged her pride. A lot. She had just about had enough of their vitriol and was going to tell Oliver to put her back in IT when this partnership with Wayne Enterprises had occurred to her as an alternative method.

The project dealt with Wayne Enterprise’s new medical laser system. Wayne Enterprises had developed these perfect, precise lasers that could cut, cauterize, and a whole slew of other things down to almost the nanometer level. They were insanely cutting edge. Pun intended. However, Bruce’s tech department had yet to find a physician capable of wielding such perfect technology, but they lacked the level of computer expert required to develop the programs that would allow the lasers to be physician-free. There were optics involved and they had to create the actual physical machine that would allow for a computer interface to work. It would be challenging and fun, and benefit so many people.

In short, it was a dream project, developing the kind of technology that Felicity salivated over when she’d graduated, and it would allow Felicity to have an incredible challenge at work, while still helping Oliver and being near-enough to him that it wouldn’t be strange for her them to meet and talk about Arrow business. Plus, her being associated with technology made more sense than her being a secretary, and she figured that she could tell people that the project had been in the works this whole time, and the EA promotion had just been a small part of the position, but she’d been prevented from talking about it due to the highly-confidential nature of the project. It would get people to shut up. And she’d be damned if she’d let him take it away now.

But that didn’t mean she wanted him to know how bad things were for her at the office. She’d been hoping to change it on her own, quietly, without Oliver ever being the wiser. How embarrassing would it be to tell your boss that at least a hundred people, conservatively, thought you were screwing him every day? It looked like Felicity was about to find out thanks to her big mouth.

“What do you mean ‘how you’re treated’ at QC?” The furrowed brow of confusion was back. At least some of his anger had dissipated . Maybe now he’d actually let her speak.

“Things haven’t been…great,” she winced at the understatement, “for me at the office lately, Oliver. It’s nothing I can’t handle, but it does grate on the nerves a bit. So believe me, when I say I can handle anything Bruce Wayne wants to give me, I mean it. Yes I realize how that sounded, but that’s not what I meant. “ She took a deep breath to keep herself from going off on another tangent. “Bruce is fine. We work together well. He doesn’t sexually harass me or anything like that. We get along. And you are absolutely not taking me off this project without my consent. Got it?”

He let out a breath and it seemed to take his residual ire with it. When he spoke, he was much calmer than he’d been before; a fact that was much appreciated by the woman going toe-to-toe with him in her living room. “Okay. You’re right. I overreacted.” He took a few steps closer to her, raising his hand to rest it on her shoulder. “I just don’t want you to ever have to suffer through being uncomfortable at work because you don’t want to mess up the project. Okay?”

All she could do was nod at him because his thumb was rubbing small circles on her collarbone. She didn’t even think he realized he was doing it, but his fingers on her bare skin were shooting fire from the place of contact all the way through her body. Tank tops around touchy Oliver Queen were definitely not good for her sanity.

“Promise me, Felicity. Promise me you won’t let Bruce Wayne make you feel uncomfortable at work. That you’ll tell me if he does.” His eyes were practically pleading with her to agree.

Well, at least talking about Bruce had distracted him from questioning her about anything else that was wrong at the office. She’d take a win where she could get one.

“What’s been going on at the office that I don’t know about?” Or not. Of course she’d jinxed herself with even thinking she’d gotten away with it.

Her shoulders slumping in defeat, she let her gaze drift away from Oliver’s. It was hard enough thinking about every time Isabel had implied she was a glorified whore, but to have to lay it out in front of Oliver? Well, she at least wouldn’t be meeting his eyes for it.

“Young, blonde nobody gets promoted to be the CEO’s secretary? There’s only one way people think that happened, Oliver. And it’s not because they think you like my brain.” That was about as vague as she could be. She could only hope that he didn’t ask her to get specific.

With it out in the open, Felicity tried to pull herself away from where his fingers were still drawing circles on her skin. She couldn’t handle talking about being his whore with his hands on her body. Even if they both knew it wasn’t true, it was just too much. But he apparently wasn’t having any of that. When she backed up, his other hand shot out and closed around her other shoulder, pulling her closer instead of letting her back away. And he didn’t stop there. He drew her in closer than before and bent a little to look her straight in the eyes.

“And people say things like this to you?” His blue eyes flitted back and forth, looking into each of hers, searching her face, trying to read her.

She hated how small her voice sounded when she responded to his question. “Sometimes.” She cleared her throat and willed herself to not care about everyone else’s opinion. This time she backed up so quickly Oliver didn’t have a chance to keep her near. “But they don’t really have to. It’s the looks and whispers. Everyone’s thinking it. And it’s fine because I know it isn’t true, Digg knows it isn’t true, and you know it isn’t true.”

It wasn’t really fine. For as much as she placed her nighttime work with the Arrow as more important than anything, she still wanted to have a career. Something to be proud of. And whispers of sleeping with the boss could follow her forever, ruining any chance she could have at becoming the head of her own division, and maybe even the CTO of a company someday.

She wasn’t lying when she told Oliver what she really wanted out of life was to make the world better because of her presence. To make her mark. And while it wasn’t everything she dreamed of, her work with Oliver, trying to save Starling City, was enough for her. So while her daytime career might suffer, she was still happy with where she was and who she was. She’d just hoped for a little more.

Oliver took another step toward her. “Why didn’t you tell me?” He sounded way more broken up about it than the topic at hand warranted, causing her eyes to shoot back to his. He looked almost desperate, and she figured that they weren’t really talking about the office anymore.

“Oliver –”

A knock at the door sounded.

Are you frakking kidding? Every time it seemed like she and Oliver might have a shot, might have a legitimate conversation about their lives outside of both jobs, something was happening to prevent them from taking that step.

Maybe it was the universe reminding her that nothing would happen between the two of them, warning her not to get too close.

For once, she wasn’t going to listen to the universe. Before whatever was on the other side of that door could interrupt the moment again, Felicity closed the distance between her and Oliver, raised herself up on her toes, and threw her arms around his neck, pulling him in close. “Thank you for caring,” she whispered, hugging him tightly for two seconds. She counted. She wanted to linger, but her pride and ‘someone I could really care for’ stopped her. Ugh. Sometimes her brain really sucked. Wouldn’t even let her enjoy the two seconds she allowed herself to be this close to Oliver Queen. Even knowing that this was probably the only time she’d be this close to him ever, barring some life-or-death situation, or hugging him after he didn’t die, or the next time he decided to be really touchy. Okay, fine. Maybe it wouldn’t be the last time.

He didn’t even hug her back. He didn’t put his arms around her. Nothing. If she ever needed confirmation of his feelings, or lack thereof, that did it.

She released him and quickly turned to the door before he could catch the disappointment on her face.

She opened the door to find Kara standing there smiling, holding bags of camera equipment. Thank Google Kara was fashionable. You’d never know it was camera equipment in those brightly colored bags unless you knew the girl well. Otherwise, it’d just look like overnight bags.

“Hey, Lix! I’m back earlier than I said, I know. I have a few other appointments in town. Can I stay with you? I won’t cramp your style. I pretty much won’t even be here after this morning. I just need somewhere to leave my things while I set stuff up.” With that she pushed her way past Felicity only to come to a halt a few feet inside the door. “Oh! You have company.” She turned around, back to Oliver and gave Felicity wide eyes and then waggling eyebrows.

Felicity opened her mouth to respond, but Oliver beat her to it. “Hi, Kara. Nice to see you again. I just had some things to go over with Felicity about a project at the office, so we had a breakfast meeting. But I have to head out. Need to visit my mom today. Bye, Kara. Felicity.” Oliver nodded in both of their directions, then headed out the door, shutting it softly behind him.

Kara had the decency to wait until the door shut behind him before she squealed. Loudly.

She set all of her bags down gently then threw her arms around Felicity. “So the pictures worked then? This is fantastic!”

At Kara’s loud exclamation about pictures Felicity cringed and shushed her friend, running to the window to see where Oliver was. Luckily he was far enough away that he couldn’t have heard what Kara said.

“Careful, please! He did not come here for sex. He came to talk and that’s it. Story over.”

Kara rolled her eyes. “Please. Did you see the way he was looking at you like you were his favorite pizza and he hadn’t eaten for ten days straight?”

Felicity countered with an eye roll of her own. “Kara. You’ve seen him. Do you really think he eats pizza?”

“Probably not regularly, but he would definitely eat pizza if pizza was you. Especially in that tight tank top with no bra. I see your plan.” 

“What? NO!” Felicity looked down at her tank top. “I mean, obviously I’m not wearing a bra. Oh frak, is it obvious? Do you think he noticed?” It had occurred to her before that she was braless, but she hadn’t really thought Oliver would be able to tell. But, when it was one of the first things Kara pointed out, now Felicity was worried.

“With the way his eyes were glued to you, even when he was talking to me? I’d say he noticed.” She smiled indulgently at Felicity, obviously knowing the other girl would need a minute to have a minor freakout. Then Felicity looked at Kara, and noticed the wide, mischievous smile which didn’t help her freakout at all because Felicity knew that look. That was the look Kara got when she had an idea.

“Oh no. Whatever it is. No. No, no, no.” She waved her hands in front of her to emphasize her point, but Kara’s smile only grew.

“Give me your burner phone. We’re totally texting him another picture right now.”

“Remember how I just said no?”

“Felicity. Come on. Conditioned responses. He’s with you, finds you sexy, then gets a sexy picture message? Pretty soon he’ll associate being super turned on by being with you. It’s brilliant. And I have the perfect picture in mind.” Kara turned and immediately ran to Felicity’s laptop, starting the computer booting, and then looking around for the encrypted drive that held all of her pictures.

The idea of creating a Pavlovian response in Oliver for her was intoxicating, but it was also completely unfair. And not something she would ever condone doing to him, no matter how exciting the idea was. If Felicity and Oliver were ever going to happen, it was not going to be because she’d ingrained the idea into his head. She wanted whomever she wound up with to want her for _her_ not because she’d used some psychological tricks to make him want to be with her. The idea of that actually sickened her. No. There would be no conditioning responses out of Oliver. Not on her watch. Even if it meant she’d never get to lick those abs like she’d dreamed of so many times.

She communicated as much to Kara. And once Felicity had explained her aversions to it, Kara agreed that it was way too shady. Plus, she told Felicity that Oliver Queen was already so far gone over her that she didn’t need the conditioned responses anyway. But Kara still insisted they send a picture right then, but only once. Just because she wanted to be there when Felicity did it again.

But the picture Kara pulled up, Felicity balked at. There was absolutely no way that, after sending one just last night that basically felt like a hint to her identity, that she was going to send another picture that could give Oliver an even bigger hint. Absolutely no way. Especially not after she’d just been with him. He could put way too much together, too quickly, and after the way his face had switched from adoration to indifference multiple times today, Felicity was not chancing that he could put two and two together and get her. Mostly, she wouldn’t survive the rejection.

So instead, she picked a different picture and showed it to Kara for approval. While Kara was obviously pulling for the other picture, she eventually agreed to sending the one Felicity chose, seeing as Felicity said it was that one or no dice. She’d have to examine later why Kara was so insistent on the one she’d picked. It wasn’t even especially sexy. There was no lace, no thigh highs, no garters, no anything. So it didn’t really make sense. But for now, she’d be happy just to have one of her best friends back in town.

Once they’d agreed on a picture and sent it out, Kara told her that they were going over to the gallery and taking some more great pics before some of Kara’s scheduled models and other volunteers showed up for their appointments. She’d been able to find a bunch of other people who agreed to let her take pictures, and she’d have a lot of fodder to choose from for her opening debut if people kept stepping up.

And then Kara smiled that terrifying smile again. “And I have some great ideas for what you’re going to send Oliver Queen for Halloween. It’s going to be fantastic. He’s going to lose his mind. Let’s go!” Kara went and raided Felicity’s closet, grabbing some of the sexy lingerie pieces, and a few articles of clothing. Then, the camera bags were back in hand and in a few minutes, Kara was pushing Felicity out the door. She’d barely had enough time to grab a coat, let alone put on acceptable clothing. When she’d complained about the bra situation, Kara had just laughed and said she had plenty in the bags and they were short on time.

* * *

Oliver was five miles away from Felicity’s when he felt his leg vibrate, but he was on his motorcycle, and he was too busy thinking about everything that had just happened over the past hour or so to worry about any phone call or text. Plus, he’d just received another picture last night, so it wasn’t likely to be that. It was probably just Thea checking to make sure he was still coming to Iron Heights to visit his mother today. He could text her later. After he figured out everything that was rolling through his head.

 _If_ he figured out what was going through his head. And that was a big if. Because right now? All he could think about was that last hug from Felicity. First was the warmth. She was toasty, which he supposed explained the tiny tank top and shorts, because if her body was putting out that much heat, she definitely didn’t need long pants even in the late October air. He could still feel the heat of her body lingering against his even though he’d left her place twenty minutes ago and the wind from the motorcycle ride should have cooled him off. That warmth was something he could get addicted to.

Second was her smell. He’d obviously woken her, so there had been no shower for her that morning, but even still, she had a fantastic scent. He’d been able to take in the remnants of her shampoo from the day before. Some citrusy concoction that left a tangy smell in its wake. But in addition to that, the lack of shower coupled with her natural heat meant he was getting more of the pure smell of Felicity than he’d ever had before, and that was even more addicting than her warmth. Maybe. It was debatable. But together? It was intoxicating.

Next, It was the feel of her curves pushing up against him. She wasn’t wearing a bra, which, of course he’d noticed. And the feel of her breasts pressing close to him through the thin material of her tank top and his henley? He had never felt anything better in his life. His blood was pumping, his heart beating so hard he was sure she could feel it against her. Add to that her breath tickling against the side of his neck as she’d whispered to him, thanking him for caring, and he’d lost all ability to process anything.

And before he could even bring up his hands to hug her back, tell her that he’d always cared about her, she was gone. She went to answer the knock at the door, leaving him standing there, trying to stop himself from pulling her back in. He was so lucky that self-control was his forte. And he had until she walked back toward him to remind himself of all the reasons that grabbing her and kissing her senseless, peeling those tiny shorts off her gorgeous ass and worshipping her for hours, was a bad idea.

His mind ran through all the arguments again, now. How she deserved better than him. How she could be hurt just by being associated with him. How she could be used against him, to hurt him, to control him all because he… well, he wasn’t letting his head go there.

Because how could he when she wouldn’t even talk to him? He knew she was deflecting answering his questions. She was keeping something from him. Something big. He could tell it was big just from her reactions. By how hard she was fighting him. But she’d agreed to let him know if she needed him. That was a step in the right direction, right? She wouldn’t tell him outright, but if it got bad, she’d come to him for help. That was one more promise, more information, than he’d had last night.

But what she hadn’t said was just as telling. She hadn’t told him that it wouldn’t get to that point. She hadn’t said that she wouldn’t need him. Just that she would let him know if she did. That’s how he knew it was big. She hadn’t offered any reassurances. She’d taken him up on the out she’d given him. And that was terrifying in and of itself.

And she hadn’t told him that things were difficult for her at the office. Sure, he’d thought that a few people might get the wrong impression, but he’d thought it would be few and far between. She was brilliant and capable and he thought that would be enough for everyone to see why he’d promoted her. He never heard anyone suggest anything about her having to earn her promotion by sleeping with him. He hadn’t noticed any weird looks or hushed whispers aimed Felicity’s way. And he couldn’t believe she hadn’t told him how bad things had gotten.

It begged the question: what else was she keeping from him?

He’d gotten what he wanted out of this morning though, hadn’t he? He’d wanted to get closer to her, to get to know her better. For her to let him in, even a little. To show her he cared. And he’d definitely accomplished that. Her hug and whispered words and proved that.

She’d shocked the hell out of him by announcing she didn’t want his money. Everyone wanted something monetary from the Queens’ bank accounts. Hell, even Laurel had asked him to come to fundraisers and donate to causes important to her. Other people wanted out on yachts, jet rides across the country, last-minute dinners at the highest-end restaurants in town. Felicity wanted nothing to do with his money. In fact, he’d given her a boatload of it, and she’d spent it on him; on fixing the lair of his base of operations to save Starling, on designing and customizing him a new bow. And she still lived in a part of town that he wished he could get her to leave. Yesterday. To get her good heart away from anyone who might hurt her.

With the revelation that all she wanted out of life was to leave the world a better place than she’d found it. It resonated with him. And he wanted that for her. Wanted to keep her safe long enough for her to realize she’d already accomplished that. He was proof. She’d pulled him back from Lian Yu when his family and his city needed him the most. Sure, Digg and come with her, but Digg wouldn’t have known where to go without her. And he’d forever owe her for that favor. Thea and his mother had needed him, more than either of those two strong, independent women would ever admit out loud. And Starling had needed him, too. To help recover from the Undertaking, to stop the crime rate from skyrocketing. To do some good. And she had made that possible.

He needed some distance from her. Not actual distance, but emotional distance. He wanted to be closer to her, to let her know that he cared about her, but he needed to figure out how to keep it friendly. Before he let himself get in too deep with the blonde that he was becoming increasingly sure had zero flaws.

On second thought, maybe he did need the distraction of his phone so he could stop thinking about the woman he’d left back there. Decided, he pulled his bike off to the side of the road, removing his helmet and pushing his hand into his pocket to fish out his phone.

Opening it, his heart lurched seeing the phone number of his mystery texter. Maybe this was exactly the distraction he needed. Maybe _she_ was.

He tapped his screen to open the message. _God_ , she was beautiful. Half of the picture was slightly out of focus, but rather than being annoying, the lack of perfect focus made the picture even more beguiling. The picture was back to black and white and he found himself regretting it since he couldn’t tell the exact hue of the skin on display. The woman in the picture was wearing a pale corset with a black lace overlay. There was a small ruffle along the top edge, adding even more femininity to the swell of breasts on display. And she wasn’t just wearing the corset. Her hands were between the center of the corset, looking like she was peeling the pieces away from her alabaster skin. Her fingers curled in to the separation of the corset, pulling it back to reveal the valley between her breasts and the upper portion of her sternum.

The only disappointing thing about the picture was the reappearance of the dark hair, curling around the hint of a collarbone at the top of the picture. With Felicity fresh in his mind, the feel of her body against his, his heart was rebelling against feeling this way about a picture of someone else. But his mind? That was a whole different story.

His mind was telling him that this was the perfect solution for his Felicity problem. He could get closer to her, but if he kept his thoughts centered on his mystery sender, maybe he could get through this without making a move on Felicity. A move he was sure he’d regret. This was much better. By focusing on his mystery girl, he could keep his romantic intentions away from clouding his judgment with the tiny blonde who smelled like Heaven and felt even better.

Licking his lips at the picture on the bright screen before him, he made his decision. Quickly he tapped out a message with his thumbs and hit send, a thrill running through him at the implications of what he’d done.

**9:45 A.M.: Hello, beautiful.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another new chapter and another new picture. Any thoughts on Oliver's resolution at the end? Let me know your thoughts in the comments section. I'm not above begging for reviews because they make my day. Literally I cannot stop smiling when my phone lets me know another comment has posted.
> 
> Don't forget to check out the picture that inspired this chapter on the [Pinterest Board](http://www.pinterest.com/thebookjump1732/picture-perfect/) for this story.
> 
> Also follow me on [Tumblr](http://thebookjumper.tumblr.com/) (and asked to be tagged if you want) to get Sneak Peeks and Update notifications!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What? What is this? Is this... an actual update? For real?? 
> 
> I finally did it, you guys. For some reason, this chapter was a beast for me. It's not the longest chapter I've posted, and it's not my favorite, but my muse was just fighting me the whole way for this bad boy.
> 
> Writer's block is now a thing of the past, though. I'm taking some fantastic advice that I received from one of my incredible readers and I'm going to start writing shorter chapters to post faster. 
> 
> Rest assured, there is a plan. I know where I'm going, but how we're getting there is what tripped me up this time.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has stuck with me and continues to leave comments, kudos, likes, and encouraging messages on Tumblr. This fandom is SO fantastic and supportive, and I'm so lucky to be a member of it.
> 
> I'm especially lucky that MissyRiver decided she loved me enough to beta for me. This chapter wouldn't be up now if it weren't for her. You're the best!!
> 
> NOW ON WITH IT!

# Picture Perfect

### Chapter 10

If they were kindergarteners, Felicity was pretty sure Kara would be dragging her by her hair right now, that’s how impatient her friend was at the sluggish pace Felicity was moving. Kara obviously wanted to get her into the gallery for more pictures _now_. But Felicity couldn’t help that her body didn’t want to cooperate with her friend’s speed; her head was just moving too fast and her body couldn’t think and move at the same time. That was why she failed ninth grade gym. Well, that and lack of upper body strength. And coordination. She definitely lacked that.

But she couldn’t quit attempting to process this morning. Oliver had brought her breakfast, had tried to get to know her better. They’d had an actual talk about her hopes and dreams. Oliver Queen wanted to know her hopes and dreams. He actually cared that she was suffering at work. She’d hugged him.

She’d _hugged_ him. While not wearing a bra. And those hard ridges that had sent delicious tingles down her spine were not from the shirt he was wearing, that was for sure. Yum.

But he hadn’t hugged her back. And a piece of her heart that had secretly been hoping these feelings weren’t one-sided wilted the slightest bit. It wasn’t dead completely. She was convinced that some part of her would _always_ hold onto hope that Oliver Queen had feelings for her, even when she was married with three kids, ten grandkids, and she’d let her hair go naturally white.

How could she not, right? He was Oliver frakking Queen. It would be one thing if he was just a hard body, chiseled jaw, and killer baby blues, but he was also a genuinely good guy. He loved his sister with everything in him. He loved his mother, too, even though she had helped destroy half of what he’d sworn to save. He was trying to make a difference, to make the world better, with both his day and night jobs. He tried to balance both, tried to keep everyone employed at QC even when its stocks were tanking due to Moira’s involvement with the Undertaking and layoffs probably made the most financial sense. He risked his life every night trying to clean up the streets and make it safer for people to walk home. He inspired her and Digg. Always. Even when he doubted himself, even when he’d run out on them after the Undertaking, they’d followed his example, putting the city first. Donating their time, their resources, and in her case, even her sanity for a bit, just to keep his legacy alive. She was in awe of him.

Which meant her feelings were never going away, and her hope that he’d someday return them wouldn’t either.

And it was that tiny piece in her heart and soul, where the hope would never go out, that kept sending him the pictures. Because if he found her attractive, maybe that knowledge would be enough to keep that part satiated. Maybe that piece of her heart just wanted to know that Oliver Queen found a piece of her that he wanted.

Even if it was clear he wouldn’t be with her. Especially after that damn non-returned hug.

“Felicity? Felicity Smoak. Move that cute little butt, please. We have work to do.”

Ah, yes. Work. Pictures to take to feed that little piece of her heart. That twisted piece that got some satisfaction from knowing Oliver Queen wanted her for her body. At least he was different than all the other guys who’d only wanted her for what her brain could do, right? Even if he didn’t want the combination, that part of her reveled in the fact that he wanted the opposite part than everyone else.

“Fine.” She adopted a dopey voice from her childhood cartoons. “What are we going to do today, Brain?”

With a big grin at Felicity, Kara pulled out the proper response. “The same thing we do every day, Pinky. Try to take over the world.” And then she shrugged her shoulders and added, “Or at least to get you to rock Oliver Queen’s world. I have so many plans, Felicity. Halloween plans. Thanksgiving plans. Hanukkah and Christmas plans.” Kara _actually_ rubbed her hands together like she was an evil villain.

They’d finally reached the gallery and Kara unlocked the door, pushing it open for them both to walk through. Felicity tossed her purse on the couch by the door, the burner phone turned off and tucked back in its rightful place in one of the zippered portions inside.

That piece of Felicity’s heart thudded in excitement at the prospect of those plans and she turned back to face Kara. “Direct away, Madame Photographer.”

With that permission, Kara began rummaging through one of the bags she’d lugged up from the car. “Halloween first, my dear.” Punctuating her statement, she tossed a package at Felicity’s chest, where it bounced and landed on the floor.

Narrowing her eyes at Kara, Felicity bent down to pluck the package from the floor to examine. It was a pair of large-holed fishnet tights. The kind Felicity had vague memories of wearing underneath some black skirts in her goth days. Days which she was pretty sure would have Oliver running in the other direction. She raised her eyebrows at Kara, beginning to question where this was going.

“What are you waiting for? Strip, girl. Put them on!”

At Kara’s direction, Felicity lifted her shirt over her head. As she was unbuttoning her jeans, Felicity glanced back over at Kara, seeing the woman combing through the bags until she pulled out a pair of black heels with a mesh pattern and a strap around the ankle and a pair of black patent leather gloves. “Whoa. Not to be a downer, but I got rid of my goth phase for a reason.”

Kara shot her an unamused glare and motioned for her to keep taking off her clothes. “Just trust the genius, Lix.”

“ _I’m_ a genius, Kara.”

“Fine. Trust the art genius, then.”

Felicity could do nothing but concede that point. The girl had proven over and over again that she was, in fact, an art genius. “Okay, art genius. Command me.”

The mischievous twinkle was back in Kara’s eye when she responded, “Panties off, too,” then let loose the biggest, tooth-filled grin Felicity thought she’d ever seen on her friend.

Felicity stepped out of her underwear and then opened the package and pulled on the fishnets. If she was going to trust the art genius, she’d have to commit. Plus, if she hated the pictures, or they showed too much, she had ultimate veto power. She knew Kara would never show any picture of Felicity to anyone without her express permission, which gave her the added confidence to stand naked, well almost naked except for some fishnet tights that hid absolutely nothing, in front of one of her best friends while the girl got her camera equipment ready. 

“Shoes and gloves, too, Lix.”

Felicity donned the rest of the getup, feeling a bit like she was posing as a dominatrix. Then Kara pulled out her next prop and Felicity realized that was _exactly_ what she was supposed to be doing.

Kara positioned her over and over again. She had her change outfits and wigs, even oiled her up at one point to “give her skin a I-just-got-out-of-the-shower look.” It was actually kind of nice. Kara was so focused on directing and repositioning that Felicity was able to get lost in her own head for awhile. Thinking more about her predicament with Oliver Queen, Felicity was stressing herself out, but she was managing to hide her freak out from Kara.

Until Kara pulled out flowers. Then her carefully crafted façade crumbled.

“No! No flowers.”

Kara turned her scrutinizing gaze on Felicity. “What do you mean no flowers?”

“I mean absolutely no flowers. I’m not taking pictures with them.” Then Felicity paused, realizing what the flowers could mean. “Wait – have _you_ been sending me flowers?”

The look of absolute confusion that overtook Kara’s features was enough to convince Felicity that the girl had no idea what she was talking about, without her even having to say a word. “No. Of course I haven’t been sending you flowers. But you’ve been getting flowers? From who? Oliver? I bet it’s Oliver. How adorable would it be if Oliver was anonymously sending you flowers when you were anonymously sending him dirty pics. That would be the best story to tell your future kids. Maybe leave out the nature of your pictures though. Don’t scandalize my future nieces and nephews.”

The whole time Kara was giving her speech, Felicity was shaking her head at her friend, and when Kara stopped talking, Felicity jumped right in. “It’s not Oliver. I thought it was at first, but it’s not. I thought maybe the first ones were from him, but John told me they weren’t. Then the second ones showed up, and now I definitely know it’s not him.”

At that, Kara’s scrutinizing look became more intense as she recognized the signs of severe distress in her best friend. “Okay. What’s going on, Felicity?”

“Nothing. I just don’t want to take pictures with flowers, okay. Let’s leave it there.”

“No. We’re not leaving it there. I just insinuated that you would have future children with Oliver Queen and you responded with something that did not have a single denial or innuendo in it. That means something is seriously wrong with you. Tell me.” She pulled out her stern voice. “Now.”

Seriously? The one time she needs her brain to freak and pull out a normal Felicity-babble session laced with innuendos that would make a fifteen-year-old boy proud, and she instead speaks a section of completely coherent speech that makes her inherently more suspicious? Thanks, brain.

“Kara. I’m fine.”

“You got jumpy at flowers, Felicity. Flowers. Oh, God. Is Matt Miller back? Is he stalking you again like he did at Uni?”

She couldn’t just sit back and let her friend spiral into a protective haze. “No. It’s not Matt Miller. At least, I don’t think it is, anyway.” She mentally added him to her list of people to check into today, just to make sure. “Someone has been sending me flowers. It’s creepy, but there’s been no reason for me to suspect it’s anything more than just an admirer other than my innate paranoia from before.”

She had to be careful not to spill the beans about the guy from the Undertaking cleanup. Felicity had been very careful to make sure that none of the Computettes caught wind of what had gone on during her volunteering stint. After the whole Matt Miller situation, they had grown increasingly protective of Felicity, and she didn’t want to add any other reasons for them to go all mother hen on her again. She also didn’t want to outright lie to her friends, either, so she chose her words carefully.

“Okay. Someone’s been sending you flowers and you’re freaking out. Don’t you think maybe you should be trusting your gut on this one, Felicity? If it feels weird, there’s something weird about it.”

Felicity dropped her head into her hands defeatedly. “I know you’re right. I know there’s something off, I just don’t know what. And I’ve been so stressed lately that I really do think I’m just over-imagining a problem where there isn’t one. I promise, if I ever get an actual indication that this is something more than just my over-active imagination, I will not hesitate to ask for help. You met John Diggle. He’s Oliver’s personal bodyguard and we’ve become good friends being in such close proximity. If this is something, I’ll ask him to look out for me.”

“And you’ll let me know, too. Right, Lix? I know I’m not here all the time, but I’ll be here more and more as we get closer to the opening of my show. I’ll always have your back, okay?” With that she grabbed Felicity’s shoulders and pulled her forcefully into a hug. “I hope you know that.”

Felicity could feel the tears welling up in her eyes and she blinked a few times and focused on one of the lightbulbs to try and clear them up before they could fall. She missed this. Having a support system nearby. People who actually cared for her without regard to how it could impact their mission. She and Diggle might be there, if recent events were any indication, but nothing felt as good as being 100% sure someone was there for her. She couldn’t wait for Kara to be around more.

Kara hugged her fiercely for a few more seconds before pulling away. “Okay – no flowers, I promise. Let’s review what we’ve got and start editing so we can get a few more pictures for you to drive that glorious hunk of a man absolutely wild. Deal?”

Felicity couldn’t help but give a slightly watery smile back to her friend. “Deal.”

* * *

He picked up his phone for the thousandth time in the last six hours, clicking the screen on again just to make sure he hadn’t missed anything since three minutes ago. Even though his ringer was turned all the way up, as was the vibration alert, so that he would have zero chance of missing anything. What if it malfunctioned and he missed her response?

Was she toying with him purposefully? She’d sent him two pictures within twelve hours and now she was giving him radio silence? It felt like a jerk-around.

Or maybe him responding to her had just freaked her out? Although, how could she not expect a response to a text message? That was the whole point of messaging, right? One person sent a text message that another person would get and then respond. So, it couldn’t have been _that_ much of a surprise that he’d responded this time, even though he hadn’t done so to any of the other pictures she’d sent him.

But maybe she thought he’d just remain passive. That he’d just receive the pictures and enjoy, but never engage. And by responding to her, maybe he’d freaked her out. Maybe she would stop contacting him altogether now.

That thought had him clicking on the screen again with some insane hope that a message would appear proving him wrong. What if he’d decided to contact her to take their relationship a little further in hopes of getting his mind off of his tech goddess and in his haste his actions caused her to cut off all contact instead? Fuck.

Seeing a lack of response again caused a pit of dread to settle low in his stomach. Maybe she was done with him, the thrill of sending anonymous messages to Oliver Queen had worn off with his response and now that was the end.

But that didn’t make much sense. After all, she had to have some reason for sending him the messages in the first place, right? There had to be a point to sending Oliver Queen ridiculously sexy pictures of herself, and what could that point be if not to land Oliver Queen? What more could be gained from this except for getting Oliver Queen interested enough to get with her?

Without being cocky, _okay_ , with a _bit_ of cockiness, he knew that women wanted him. Some of these women had gone to ridiculous lengths to try and get him in bed, and usually the most outlandish ones were successful. At least with _Ollie_ , if not the Oliver who had returned from the island. The most memorable one was the woman who had bribed a valet to let her climb into his Porsche and wait for him. Naked. With a friend. Both of those women had gone home very happy the next morning.

So the end game of this new mystery woman had to be the same, right? His responding to her messages must have been the next step for her, the next goal to be reached. So why when he played right into her plan, did she leave him hanging?

He was so frustrated. And he was taking that frustration out on his poor phone’s battery life.

Both Thea and his mom had called him out on his distraction today at their visit to the jail where Moira was currently imprisoned for her role in the Undertaking. After the sixth time he’d checked his phone, his mom had looked at him disapprovingly and Thea had snatched his phone away from him and put it in her own pocket so he couldn’t keep checking it anymore.

“Is it a girl?” Thea had questioned him as they made their way out of the prison after visiting hours were over. “Is that what’s got you checking your phone obsessively?”

Trust Thea to hit the nail on the head on the first try.

“Maybe.” He couldn’t lie to his little sister. Not about something as trivial as this. Not when there were bigger things he was keeping from her, like what he did at night.

Thea’s wide grin seemed out of place for the occasion, having just left their mother behind bars, but he was happy that she was able to smile at all. “Who is she?”

He grimaced, unable to help it.

“You don’t know, do you, Ollie?”

He just shook his head. “She won’t tell me her name,” he responded, carefully choosing his words to not give away too much to his baby sister. The last thing he wanted to do was tell Thea about the girl sending him semi-explicit photos of herself that had him so caught up with her that he could barely think straight.

If it were possible, Thea’s smile widened. “Keeping Ollie Queen guessing, huh? Not just immediately giving into him? I like her already.” Thea pulled his phone out of her pocket, gave him a hug, and then placed the phone back in his grasp, giggling when he immediately flipped the screen on to check it.

“So you, what? Gave her your number and are now anxiously awaiting her call?”

Oliver grumbled at the brightness in her voice, knowing that she was teasing him and getting a huge kick out of Oliver being the one waiting by his phone for once. “Something like that.”

Something in his tone must have tipped her off because her grin softened into a loving, slightly pitying, smile. “You really like her, huh?”

Oliver had paused at that to really think over her question before responding. “I don’t really know her, yet.” How true that was. All he had were faceless pictures of her incredibly gorgeous body. For some reason, given all of the fodder he had, his mind returned to the playful picture she’d sent, the one where she was holding a glass of wine in her cheeky pink and gray lace panties. “But, there’s just something about her, you know? Something that makes me want to get to know her.” Beyond just getting to know her body, that is. He definitely wasn’t saying _that_ to his baby sister.

“You sound like you’ve got it bad, Bro. Keep me posted on how that works out, please.”

He smiled gently at Thea’s warmth and curiosity. “I will.” Then the two of them parted ways, Thea getting into a town car and Oliver slinging his leg back over his motorcycle.

Two hours after that conversation with Thea, and the picture was still front and center in his mind’s eye. For some reason, he equated that picture with playfulness. Something about it spoke more to her personality than any of the others, at least in his opinion. And it was that picture, he realized, that made him want to get to know her better. The added benefit of distracting him from Felicity Smoak was a fringe benefit, the catalyst that had pushed him to what he really wanted, which was to get to know the woman behind that sweet, spirited photograph.

And maybe there was a little part of him that desperately wanted to get to know the woman in the photograph because he saw that same personality in Felicity Smoak, and wanted to get to know more. Maybe he could find someone like Felicity that he could start a relationship with, that would be able to love him without risking losing one of the best friendships and partnerships that he’d ever made. He couldn’t risk losing everything that Felicity meant to him over a romantic entanglement that would probably never work out.

He could admit to himself that he needed Felicity Smoak in his life forever. He wouldn’t want to live without her around in some capacity. Which is why he wouldn’t, _couldn’t_ , risk screwing up their current relationship status in a way that would have her walking out of his life for good.

Here, where no one could hear or judge his thoughts, in the back of his mind, he was willing to admit that Felicity Smoak was his bar. The bar he would use for the rest of his life to judge every other woman. She was warm and bright. Brilliant. Compassionate. She wouldn’t let him get away with being a “pigheaded jackass” as she’d so eloquently put it one time he’d returned to the foundry with a gash on his forearm that he got because he hadn’t listened to her directions to go in through the east window of the warehouse, and instead had used the north door. No other woman he’d ever known, aside from his mother and sister, had ever stood up to him like she did. She was sweet and cheeky. Smart, drop-dead gorgeous, with expressive, crystalline eyes that told him exactly what she was feeling. She brought light back into his life from the darkness that had engulfed him since the island and everything after.

She was everything he wanted and nothing he deserved.

So maybe, just maybe, he could find some of those traits in his mystery girl. Whoever she was, she could never live up to everything that was Felicity Smoak. But maybe he could get close. Felicity-adjacent.

On that thought, Oliver glanced down at the phone again, willing a new message to have appeared. He needed a romantic, sexual outlet in his life if he was going to keep his mission of deepening his friendship with Felicity strictly platonic. There was no way he could get through learning more about how remarkable his Girl Wednesday was without falling even more for the woman. He needed someplace to take the emotions that closeness with Felicity was sure to bring forth, someplace to redirect them so that he couldn’t ruin what he had with Felicity with the messiness that invariable came with a romantic involvement with Oliver Queen. He hoped his mystery girl could be just that. If she would ever respond to him.

Still no messages. He checked the time on the phone, since it was open anyway. There was only another hour or so before he had to get to the foundry for the night’s patrol. Another hour until he had to face Felicity after their morning together, where he’d gotten to know details about her that had him in awe even more than he already was. She didn’t want money, didn’t care about material things. She only wanted to leave the world a better place than she’d found it. She sounded unreal even in his own head. There was no way someone as insanely stunning as she was had a heart to match, right? That just wasn’t a possibility. Except he had the evidence right before him in the form of the tech wizard, sexy blonde that haunted his days and nights.

He could still feel the round fullness of her breasts pressed against him as she hugged him. If he’d been less shocked, quicker to react, he realized that he’d know how the plains of her back felt against his hands as they wrapped around her to hug her back. His hesitation to encircle her in his arms was something he was sure he’d be kicking himself for in the years to come. If only he’d been quicker on the uptake. Lack of reaction time was not typically something that the Arrow was known for, but his brain had just short-circuited in that moment.

At the thought of how Felicity felt against him, Oliver decided that he needed to grab a quick, cold shower before he had to spend the night with her in his ear.

An hour and a half later, Oliver was slightly more relaxed than before his shower as he ambled down the stairs into the basement of Verdant. Picturing Felicity with her front pinned against the tiles of his shower at the Queen mansion, hands above her head, fingers entwined with his as he held her there and pistoned into her from behind, his hips smacking into her perfect ass with every thrust _might_ have had something to do with it.

He’d gotten the lust for her out of his system. That’s all that mattered. He’d be able to function tonight, even with her lilting voice giving him directions in his ear all night.

Feeling great, despite any lingering guilt he might have over imagining Felicity in yet another intensely sexual situation, he was excited to get out patrolling tonight. They were starting to make some headway on figuring out who was at the top of the food chain of the recent organized crime element stirring up trouble in Starling City, and Felicity had texted him just before he made his way in that night, letting him know that she had a solid lead on their base of operations. He wouldn’t have to spend tonight beating up petty criminals, but could instead focus on some serious forward progress tonight. And he’d be able to focus since he’d taken care of a little _problem_ before heading in.

He ran across Diggle first, greeting the other man warmly.

Instead of returning the greeting, Diggle winced at his friend. “Want to tell me what happened today?”

“What do you mean?”

“What I mean is this. You went to see Felicity this morning and now she shows up here like this. What did you do?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He really didn’t. To say that he was confused was putting it mildly. What did he mean how Felicity showed up tonight? Was she okay? He could feel a panic blooming in his chest remembering how badly last night had gone. Had something else happened to upset her? Fuck. He should have pushed harder to get her to tell him what was going on. “Is she okay?”

Diggle didn’t say anything, opting instead to scrutinize Oliver’s expression. After a few short seconds that felt like hours to Oliver, Diggle seemed to resign himself to the fact that Oliver hadn’t done anything. Or at least didn’t know that he’d done something wrong. “She’s fine. Better than, or so she’d have me think. Just – don’t freak when you see her, okay?” John’s face twisted from the scowl into something that looked more like sympathy or pity.

With that comment and the look John was shooting his way, Oliver felt the icy grip of fear claw at his heart. Not sparing another second with John, Oliver turned to search out Felicity. He practically sprinted to her computer bank to find her.

She wasn’t there. He frantically turned around, looking for her until he heard the soft click of her heels behind him. Whirling to face her, he stopped cold.

He couldn’t process the sight before him. Normally, Felicity was completely put together. Her sense of fashion was without question and those little business dresses for which she’d exchanged her skirt and cardigan combination, were sexy, classy, and undeniably professional all at the same time. She was always gorgeous. But, looking at her now?

She was a goddess. And not just of the tech variety.

He’d glimpsed this before, but that moment was marred by the bomb collar strapped around her slender neck. He’d seen it again when she’d volunteered to infiltrate an underground casino and use her card counting skills to get caught, but again, that moment had been overshadowed by his intense fear for her life and well-being when the mobsters had discovered her earbud. And both of those times were before her personality had completely enchanted him.

Now? There was no life or death situation that called for her to look like this. She wasn’t in any immediate danger and he wasn’t able to compartmentalize it into being ‘for the mission’ the way he’d been able to do the other times she’d appeared before him like this.

She was a vision in that red dress. It was practically skintight, hugging the curves of her body in a way that only seemed to emphasize her …assets. The material had to be the stretchy kind that he’d peeled off a number of women in his past the way it clung to her body. And the dress itself wasn’t just red. It was shiny. Glittery, even. Coming to her mid-thigh, it showed off how long her tanned, toned legs were. He couldn’t stop his eyes from following those legs down to where they were capped off by tall, black, patent leather pumps with a pointed-toe.

Her hair was down, tumbling in soft curls around her face, looking absolutely touchable. And her face. Her makeup was done up perfectly, black eyeliner highlighting her gorgeous blue eyes. Eyes that weren’t hidden behind her glasses.

That was the only detail that was less than perfect. He loved those glasses on her face. They were quintessential Felicity Smoak, and God knew he adored Felicity Smoak.

Trying to pull himself together, he managed to stutter out, “Uhh.. What’s this look for?”

She pouted and put her hands on her hips, rolling her eyes in a way that was _very_ Felicity. Was she trying to kill him? “Kara’s in town,” she shrugged as if that explained everything.

And maybe it did, but at this particular moment Oliver’s brain was completely unable to make whatever logical jump she was implying. Apparently all it was capable of doing was tilting his eyebrows quizzically at her and hoping she caught on that he needed a bit more to go on.

“If you’ll remember, all of my friends know you own Verdant and they think I have a second job providing tech support here when the club’s open. And I may have told them that it’s cool because I get to skip the lines and dance when I’m not fixing something, so now I’m going clubbing tonight and waiting to fix any tech issues that might arise.”

“Felicity, we’re supposed to be going after the head of the gang tonight. How are we going to do that if you have to be here dancing.” _And how am I supposed to focus knowing you’re here looking like that?_ His mind added for him. At least he didn’t have Felicity’s problem of speaking out loud on accident.

“I’ll be on the comms all night,” she tapped her ear indicating the device was already in place. “Plus, if I need to sneak away to be down here, I can always just claim tech issues and escape.” She pulled her cell phone out of her black clutch purse and waved it in front of his face. “I programmed my phone so that when I hit the volume button, it takes down the wi-fi connection for the club. Inconvenient, but it can stay down as long as I need it to, but nothing so major that it knocks out the profitability for the club.” She looked incredibly proud of herself for that bit of brilliance, and Oliver thought she’d never looked more cute.

He couldn’t help but return her enthusiasm with a smile. “It looks like you have a knack for subterfuge, Felicity Smoak. I’m glad you’re on our side.”

The return smile she gave him was sincere and sweet, if not quite as large as he’d hoped.

“Well, Kara’s waiting for me upstairs, so let me know when you get close and I’ll make my excuses.” With that, she turned and made her way up the stairs, giving Oliver a view of the way the dress clung to the curves of her incredible ass. And he was supposed to be able to concentrate while he was out hunting down the head of this crime ring knowing that every time he heard her voice in his ear she was dressed like that? Seriously?

When she’d disappeared into the club upstairs, Oliver turned to Digg. “How exactly did you think this was my fault?”

Digg grinned, apparently amused to see Oliver’s discomfort. “Hey man, you go over to her place in the morning and then she turns up here tonight dressed like she plans to take someone home? I thought you either pissed her off or got your head out of your ass and she was taking you home.”

Would she really take someone home? It had been a little over a year that they’d been working together, and he didn’t think he’d ever heard her even mention a guy. That seemed a little suspicious, right? Or it did to Ollie Queen, playboy extraordinaire. Maybe she’d just been quiet about them? Something in his chest tightened at the thought of Felicity sleeping with anyone. Well, anyone who wasn’t him. He was so screwed.

Four hours and an empty base of operations later, and Oliver was at his wits end. Truthfully, they were lucky that this lead was a dead end because Oliver was too distracted by what was going on in his ear. Felicity had accidentally left hear earbud open after she had finished directing him and Diggle through storming the warehouse. He probably could have alerted her to it, but he was curious. Originally, he was curious. Now? He wished that he had alerted her to it right away so she could have turned it off again because now too much time had passed for him to say anything and it was killing him.

He could hear everything that was going on with her back in Verdant. And when he said everything, what he meant was every single guy that offered to buy her a drink, every guy that asked her what her sign was, every guy who asked her to dance, and even that one guy who he’d heard her use her loud voice on ordering him to remove his hands from her body or lose them. He’d been so angry at that last one that he’d almost abandoned the night completely and gone to break fingers. Only Digg’s glare and quiet reminder, off the comms, that Felicity could take care of herself stopped him.

He and Digg were currently searching through the remains of what the gang had left behind. From what he could tell, it look like they’d left in a hurry, so there was a decent amount of junk laying around that he and Digg needed to comb through to see if there were any clues as to their new base or their leader’s identity. Oliver was in the process of removing a hard drive from a computer for Felicity to extract the data when he heard it.

“Aren’t you Oliver Queen’s secretary?” Oliver knew that voice. He hated that voice. That voice? Belonged to Carter Bowen. Mister Perfect, sorry, _Doctor_ Perfect, himself. Even Oliver’s mother wanted Carter Bowen to be her son. And now he was at Verdant, talking to Felicity while she was in that dress.

“Executive Assistant.” At the tightness in Felicity’s voice, Oliver and Digg locked eyes and smiled. Sounded like Doctor Perfect just struck out before he’d even started.

“What’s the difference?” Ha. Oliver was thrilled to sit back and let Carter Bowen dig himself his own grave. At least there would be one woman in his life who didn’t prefer Carter Bowen to Oliver Queen.

“The difference is that I have two master’s degrees from MIT that say I’m overqualified for this position and that I’ve earned the right to decide what I want my title to be, and I settled on Executive Assistant because I personally feel like it’s less demeaning for all of the work that I do. Not that the word Secretary is demeaning. At all. More power to those who like that title. But I’m not one of them, and to me the word makes me feel like all people think I do is answer phone, schedule appointments, and get coffee. And I’m much, much more than that.” Pride at her masterful shut down of that asshole filled him at the same time that the guilt for regulating her to that position in the first place shot through him again. The fact that she’d thought out what she wanted people to call her so that she didn’t feel demeaned in her position ate at him, especially recalling their conversation from this morning about how her life at the office was difficult.

“I’m sorry. I feel like I’ve insulted you without meaning to. I was genuinely curious.” She wasn’t buying this, was she? He was a pompous dick. Focus on that, Felicity.

“Fine. Sorry I went a little crazy. I’m sensitive in my position. At the office. Not a sexual position. I’m definitely sensitive in sexual positions. Not that you needed to know that. Three. Two. One.” Did she just. With him? Oliver wasn’t an idiot. He knew that her inadvertent sexual innuendos probably happened with other people, but he’d been perfectly happy thinking that they were reserved only for him without having to witness her doing it with someone else. Especially not Carter Fucking Bowen.

To Bowen’s credit, he didn’t make Felicity feel awkward about her inappropriate comments. He just sped right past them. “So, two master’s degrees from MIT. Interesting. In what?”

“Cyber Security and Computer Science.”

“Why is someone with that background working as an Executive Assistant? Wouldn’t you be more suited to a research and development position?” Yes, she would. Oliver hated that Bowen immediately jumped to that conclusion, mostly because he hated how the asshole was right.

“It wasn’t my choice.” The words, spoken so dejectedly from Felicity’s lips, gutted Oliver where he stood. He knew she wasn’t happy as his assistant, but to hear how miserable she’d sounded just there killed him. He’d been a thoughtless idiot when he came back from the island, just promoting her without discussing it with her first, all because he’d wanted her closer to him. At least he was trying to fix it now by putting her in charge of the deal with Wayne Enterprises.

It seemed that Bowen had realized how upset Felicity was as well. “My servers never go down, but I do.”

Oliver saw red. How dare Carter Fucking Bowen proposition Felicity like that? She deserved someone who would respect her, not someone who would offer to go down on her within two minutes of meeting her. She deserved to be cherished, respected, cared for, not just propositioned like she was anything less than the remarkable woman that he knew her to be. And what kind of asshole just went around offering oral to any woman in a bar? Plans to head back to Verdant and put an arrow through Bowen’s tongue so he could never use it for any of those activities on Felicity, ever, began to float through his head. In his mind, he settled on torturing Bowen first, slowly, before making that act impossible.

Or he did until he heard Felicity give an honest-to-God full-bellied laugh. Seriously? Was something that ridiculously over-the-top and cheesy actually working on his brilliant girl? He’d tried his fair share of those kinds of lines, without the computer references for obvious reasons, on many girls back in the day, both smart and not-so smart, and he’d never had that level of success. He’d actually _been_ that asshole he was railing in his head about before. But the response he’d received? The women gave him the occasional eye roll and slight laugh, but no girl had ever busted up laughing that hard.

The anger was swiftly replaced by jealousy. How could Felicity even consider Carter Bowen? Sure the guy was decent looking. _And smart_ , Oliver’s thoughts begrudgingly added, the memories of Moira Queen lauding Carter Bowen’s status as a neurosurgeon and acclaimed author pulled to the forefront of his mind. But Felicity didn’t know any of those things. As far as she knew he was some not-grotesque stranger who’d lewdly propositioned her at a bar, and she’d gifted him with that laugh. The biggest laugh he’d heard out of Felicity Smoak in the whole time he knew her.

He’d live the rest of his life regretting that he wasn’t the one to pull that noise from her lips. That fucking Carter Bowen had brought forth that sound of unadulterated joy from Felicity Smoak. Not Oliver Queen.

But there was nothing he could do about it. He had exactly zero right to storm in and save Felicity from attention that she seemed to want. He’d slept with Isabel. He’d told her that he couldn’t be with someone he could really care about because of the life he chose to lead. And the circumstances hadn’t changed. It was still too dangerous to be with her, regardless of how he felt. He couldn’t snuff out the light that exuded from every one of her pores. He’d smother that light right out of her with his dark soul, and he couldn’t let that happen. She deserved so much better than him. And so much better than some asshole offering to go down on her without even giving her his name or asking for hers. Dick.

“Carter.”

“Oh. Um. Felicity. That’s me. Nice to –uh –meet you.” She sounded distracted and unsure. Or maybe she was just shy. He could picture her eyes looking everywhere except for the man to whom she was speaking, her lower lip caught between her teeth after she’d finished her introduction. She was adorable. And the lip biting that he was absolutely sure was happening at that moment? It was sexy as hell, and Carter Bowen was witnessing it.

He heard some jostling and a jingling that sounded like keys followed by Felicity’s exclamation, “Hey! What are you doing?!”

Then a voice he recognized as Kara’s whispered in Felicity’s ear. The ear that conveniently, or inconveniently as Oliver was about to discover, held the earbud. “I’m taking your keys and going to sleep at the gallery tonight. You’re going to let this gorgeous hunk of a man drive you home. Invite him in for …coffee.”

“I don’t even know the guy, Kara,” Felicity responded, sounding exasperated with her girlfriend.

“His name’s Carter. That’s all you need. I’m not saying fall in love, I’m saying get some stress relief. You need it. You deserve it. And the boy offered to eat you out first, so you know you’re guaranteed at least one tonight.” Then, without allowing Felicity the opportunity to open her mouth, Kara’s voice moved further away but got louder. “Thanks for letting me take your car tonight, Lix. I’ll bring it by in the morning before I head back to Gotham. Carter can get you home, right Carter?”

“Absolutely.”

Oliver had liked Kara when he met her at Big Belly Burger, happy that Felicity had a friend outside of saving Starling City that she could rely on, a group of them, really. Now he was rethinking his original stance on this woman in particular. He kind of loathed her at this moment in time.

And then Diggle opened his mouth and made it so much worse. “Hey Felicity, I think we’re done here. We’ve got some tech that they left behind for you to check out, but it’s late. You should head home. We can regroup tomorrow.”

Oliver’s eyes shot to Diggle in that moment and the anger that overtook him rivaled that he unleashed on the people whose names appeared on his father’s list before the Undertaking. Digg just sat there and grinned at the look that struck fear into the hearts of Starling City’s criminals, reaching up to turn off his comm so Felicity wouldn’t hear what he was about to tell Oliver. “If you won’t pull your head out of your ass and make Felicity happy, I’m all about her getting some stress relief in the meantime. Especially from someone who makes her laugh like that.”

Diggle’s comments twisted the knife in Oliver’s heart.

Twenty minutes later, that knife got another twist.

After Kara had left, the scumbag hadn’t moved from Felicity’s side. She’d tried to excuse herself to the bathroom, probably to sneak down to the basement and take out her earbud, but he’d insisted on walking her because “you never know what kind of creeps you might run into in a club.” That was rich considering what he’d said to Felicity. But, without a car Felicity had apparently decided to take Bowen up on his offer of a ride home, at which point Oliver had insisted that she keep her earbud in and on, just to make sure she got home okay. Diggle rolled his eyes at that one.

When Oliver and Digg were getting back to the lair, Carter Bowen was dropping Felicity off at her place. Oliver could hear every excruciating detail of the two of them standing outside Felicity’s door, the asshole very obviously angling for an invite inside. And hearing this portion of the conversation? He was almost glad the noise of Bowen’s overly-flashy sports car was loud enough to drown out any interactions he might have heard on the car ride to Felicity’s home.

Almost. He was _almost_ glad. But he wasn’t. Because it seemed in that short ride from Verdant to Felicity’s, Bowen had somehow managed to ingratiate himself to Felicity, and it now seemed like she might actually invite him in.

“You’ve got that face on, again.” The sound of Carter Bowen’s voice was quickly becoming the most hated sound in the world by Oliver Queen.

“What face?”

“The ‘he’s hot when he’s clever’ face.” Seriously, could Oliver just cut out Bowen’s tongue? He’d be doing the world a favor, honestly.

“This is my normal face.” Was he imagining the hint of a smile that he was hearing in her voice? _Please_ , let him be imagining the smile. Oliver was pleading with the powers that be to let Felicity see through this jackass.

“Yes. It is.”

“Oh! Shut up!!” She laughed there. Actually fucking laughed. Not the same, full laugh from back at the club, but still. She’d laughed at something that Dickface had said. Twice now. 

And yes, if your name was not Oliver Queen or John Diggle, then making Felicity Smoak laugh like that was an offense that earned you a replacement name, like Jerkwad or, in this case, Dickface, in Oliver Queen’s head. And _yes_ , Oliver recognized that he sounded like a ten-year-old in his head, but Felicity was actually reacting to the most infantile pickup lines Oliver had ever heard in his life, so he figured that maybe that would put him in the proper mindset to get what he wanted.

Because he absolutely wanted Felicity. He just couldn’t have her. Or, more accurately, he couldn’t let himself have her. But that didn’t mean that Dickface could have her. Absolutely not. If Felicity was going to be with someone that wasn’t Oliver, it had to be someone worthy of her.

Someone who would cherish the fact that she would always be smarter than him, adore it when she pointed out that he was wrong, and find it exceedingly hot when she stood up to him. He would have to be terrified of her loud voice, but find it disturbingly sexy at the same time. Find her babbles endearing and charming, relish the insight into how her mind worked, and appreciate her unintended sexual innuendos, but still be able to move past them without making her feel too embarrassed.

Whomever Felicity Smoak chose had to love everything about her. At least half as much as Oliver did.

But he also had to be a better man than Oliver was.

Her giggling brought him out of his thoughts. Giggling? Just one more sound Dickface was able to pull out of Felicity that Oliver never had.

Dickface’s voice cut through the disappoinment ringing through Oliver’s head. “You’re beautiful, Felicity.” Tool. She was so much more than just beautiful. Felicity was stunning. Brilliant. Perfect.

He was standing in the lair, picturing the scene happening just outside Felicity’s place. Dickface was using his deep voice, telling Felicity she was beautiful. Maybe he was swiping one of her unrestrained curls behind her ear. Leaning in close to her, moving in for the kiss. At which point Felicity’s hand would come up and push against Dickface’s chest, forcing him away, and telling him to leave for the night.

Then he heard her gasp. The exact sound he’d imagined her making a thousand times in his head right when he’d enclose her cheeks and their lips would be a hairsbreadth away from one another. A little inhale of complete expectation, the prelude to a meeting of their lips. But this sound wasn’t for him. This sound was for Carter Bowen.

The only thing capable of describing what he was feeling at that exact moment was a quote from a Harry Potter movie that he’d watched with Thea, secretly hoping to impress Felicity with his knowledge at some point in the future: “One person can’t feel all that at once, they’d explode.” Thank you, Ron Weasley. That was exactly how Oliver currently felt. He was angry, possessive, traumatized, and devastated all at the same time and he felt like he would explode. And he might have, if not for John Diggle distracting him at that very moment.

“That’s it,” John muttered as he reached for the earbud trigger and flicked it off so neither of them would be able to hear any further into Felicity’s night. “Give the girl her privacy, yeah?”

“But, I know that guy. He’s not good for her, Digg. He --”

Diggle stopped him before he could continue on. “I get it, Oliver. But we don’t get to decide that for her. If you won’t tell her how you feel, won’t be with her because of some whacked out perception that you will hurt her or don’t deserve her, that’s fine. But by doing that, you lose any ability to comment or interfere with her involvement with someone else.”

Diggle met Oliver’s stare, and the older man’s gaze took on a more serious quality. “Oliver. You’re my friend. God help me, you’re the best friend I’ve got. But that woman? She’s like my sister. She’s been through so much.” He held up his hand to stop Oliver’s coming interruption. “No - I won’t tell you what. But she deserves to have whatever she wants. And barring that? Neither of us will deny her taking advantage of a second choice. Am I clear?”

The vehemence in Diggle’s voice left no room for argument. All Oliver could do was nod.

He was lost in his thoughts the whole way back to the Queen Estate, contemplating what Digg said. He knew they’d had similar conversations before, but when faced with the reality that Felicity might have invited Carter fucking Bowen into her bed, it somehow drove the point home for him. By denying himself Felicity, he was driving her to seek out other options. Maybe Dickface wouldn’t last, but someone else might. He couldn’t expect her to be alone forever. Someday someone would stick, and Oliver would have to live with that.

These thoughts kept twisting in his head, his mind warring with himself over his want to keep Felicity away from all other men and his absolute certainty that the two of them being together in a romantic sense would just wind up with her hurt or worse.

He was so caught up that he actually jumped when his phone pinged out the special ringtone that meant he had an incoming text from his mystery girl. His stomach immediately clenched in anticipation. As he reached for the phone to open the message, he realized something shocking -- 

He hadn’t thought about the anonymous woman all night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There you have it. Another chapter in the books. I have the next one already in the pipes, so it definitely will not be another two months before I update again. 
> 
> If you want to stay updated with me, or ask me any questions, or harass me in general, please visit my [Tumblr](http://thebookjumper.tumblr.com) where I post Sneak Peeks and other updates as to my current status. And if you want, let me know and I'll tag you in Sneak Peeks and Updates as they come out!
> 
> Don't forget to check out the [Pinterest Board](http://www.pinterest.com/thebookjump1732/picture-perfect/) for this story to see the pictures Felicity's been sending to Oliver.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still not as short of a time between updates as I'd like, but better than two whole months!
> 
> I know some of you felt like not a lot was going on last chapter, and all I can say is: you're right! Sometimes chapters aren't going to be as much moving the plot forward. I plan on this being a decently long story, and we're still within the first few weeks of Oliver receiving these pictures. So, I get that it doesn't seem like much development at this point, but as the story moves forward - we'll definitely be seeing some growth. In multiple potential meanings of that phrase. (Sexual innuendo isn't just Felicity's thing).
> 
> I've also been struggling with a bit of writer's block for this story, so there's that. Last chapter was very difficult for me to get out for that reason. This one went much faster when I actually had time to sit down and write.
> 
> Thanks to everyone who's leaving kudos, following the story, subscribing, commenting, and just generally being amazing about this story. You are all fantastic and I want to hug all of you.
> 
> Thanks as always to the wonderful MissyRiver, my amazing beta and fantastic friend. I love you. Seriously - so much.

# Picture Perfect

### Chapter 11

This had been the night from Hell. Well, if she believed in Hell, anyway.

This was not how her night was supposed to go. She was supposed to be in the basement of Verdant, wearing her semi-comfortable work dress and the heels that didn’t pinch her toes. She was not supposed to be poured into some dress that was uncomfortably tight around her bust and strapped into some sky-high spike stiletto heels that left her feeling like she would fall over every time she took a step.

And Felicity Smoak knew how to walk in high frakking heels. She was a pro. The only woman better at high heels than Felicity was her mother, Donna Smoak, the queen of stilettos, who spent ten hour days in stilettos walking around the casino floors of Vegas. And _this_ was the woman who had taught Felicity to walk in heels. So when Felicity felt like she was going to fall over, you knew the heels were ridiculous.

She was supposed to be downstairs with her babies. Well, not _babies_ babies. She definitely didn’t have any tiny humans that shared half of her DNA that she kept in the basement of a club. Well, _that_ was a weird thought. At least she hadn’t said that out loud.

Although maybe it would have helped her in this situation and maybe scared off another of hundred guys who had come onto her tonight. A hundred might have been a slight exaggeration, but that’s what it felt like. And it was all Kara’s fault.

Felicity loved Kara. Absolutely. But right now? She kind of wanted to throttle her because it was her fault that Felicity had been completely unable to sneak away all night, despite her foolproof plan of being able to disable the club’s wi-fi from her phone. That plan had proved not-so foolproof after all. How was Felicity supposed to know that no one aside from her actually used the free wi-fi on their phones while at a nightclub? So, when it went out no one noticed or complained and Felicity had no reason to go “fix” it.

In lieu of that, she had tried to invent reasons to sneak away all night, but after her first trip to the bathroom where she had disappeared for forty minutes to help Oliver and Diggle break into the warehouse that was supposed to be housing the gang, Kara had been attached to Felicity’s hip. And if she wasn’t, she made sure that some random guy was.

It seemed like Kara was literally throwing every guy in the club at Felicity tonight. Maybe hearing about the anonymous, flower-leaving, potential stalker coupled with Felicity’s poor mood over Oliver Queen had Kara thinking Felicity needed a distraction. Or at least some stress relief.

But, all it really accomplished was stressing Felicity out even more. She hadn’t even been able to get away to help Bruce get a GPS-lock on the guy he was investigating. She had barely been able to even send him a text telling him she wouldn’t be able to help out tonight. And when she had, he’d only responded with a quick “OK” rather than his usual pain-in-the-ass, snarky remarks, making her feel like she had let him down.

With everything going on in her life right now, Felicity was stressed to the max, uncomfortable, and exceedingly annoyed with the night. Which was why it was no surprise that when she heard the next guy approach her asking if she was Oliver Queen’s secretary, she immediately spiralled into anger. Especially when he asked her what the difference was between secretary and Executive Assistant.

At that, she’d given him a long, ire-filled dressing down.

And when he responded that he hadn’t meant to give offense, but rather was sincere in his question, she realized that the poor guy was probably being genuine and really hadn’t deserved the rage she’d unleashed on him, but she was feeling particularly horrible tonight and had taken it out on him. After all, it wasn’t his fault she was stuck in a position she hated that felt like a demotion even with the bump in pay.

To his credit, he seemed actually genuinely interested in her, questioning her about her background and leaving the sore subject behind. Or so she’d thought. Then he asked her the same question she’d been asked a million times over, the one that depressed her even more: with her background, why wasn’t she using it?

Yeah, this guy was for sure not getting laid tonight.

She bit out a quick response that she was sure reflected exactly how she felt at her current position in life. Then, probably sensing Felicity’s mood just by the look on her face, Kara made eye contact with Felicity from where she was standing behind this guy. Her friend began making kissy faces and waggling her eyebrows suggestively behind his back. When Felicity barely reacted, Kara upped her game, and started pointing at the guy and then humping the air.

The contrast of Kara dressed to the nines and perfectly coiffed making herself look ridiculous in the middle of a crowded nightclub just to make Felicity feel better was enough to get to Felicity. She couldn’t hold it back any longer and she let out a loud, horribly embarrassing laugh that actually had heads turning toward her to see what sound was! But Felicity couldn’t bring herself to stop laughing.

It was only when she returned her attention to the guy in front of her and saw him grinning that she realized he must have said something to her and thought he’d made her laugh. She decided to let him feel like he’d accomplished something, giving him her name in response to his while her eyes continued to flit back to Kara who had started walking towards them. She sighed in relief, realizing Kara was about to rescue her from… was it Connor?

Or, so she thought. A thought that was quickly dashed when Kara instead reached into Felicity’s purse and pulled out her keys and told her to let Connor take her home. She may have suggested more than just a ride, too. Without waiting to hear Felicity’s protest, Kara turned around confirming that Carter could take her home.

Wait. Carter? Did Kara mean Connor? Or was his name actually Carter? Crap.

Just as she was about to tell what's-his-face that he didn’t need to drive her home and then sprint to catch up with Kara, heels be damned, she heard John’s voice in her earbud distracting her from that plan. He informed her that they were heading back to home base and that she should feel free to go home. When she looked around, Kara was gone.

Well, it looked like What’s-His-Face would be taking her home. Ugh.

She tried to excuse herself to the bathroom so she could sneak downstairs and remove the earbud to leave it with the rest of the Arrow equipment, but he insisted on walking her and waiting for her.

And he’d followed her to the bathroom, leaning against a wall to wait for her, so there was no sneaking off. Overbearing, much?

There was no way she was leaving the earbud in the bathroom at a club because, ew. And she couldn’t put it in her clutch because the bag was too small and might crush the super-expensive tech. Her only option was to leave it in. She reached up and was going to turn it off, but Oliver seemed to have an opinion on that. A very strong one.

“Felicity. If you can hear me, leave the earbud in.”

Uh, no. It was bad enough that some random guy was going to have to drive her home, but having Oliver Queen listen in on it? Uh uh. Not happening. “Yeah - no. Sorry,” she whispered, hoping he could hear her over the bathroom noise and the club music that was still pounding.

“Felicity.” Oooh. Growly Oliver was making an appearance. She loved growly Oliver. She paused at that thought, waiting to see if he’d react, letting her know whether she’d said that out loud or not. When she got nothing, her shoulders dropped in relief. She might have had a little more to drink tonight than she’d thought. Normally, she wouldn’t even let herself think things like that because she could never guarantee that her thoughts wouldn’t come out of her mouth.

“Oliver.” She tried to make her voice low and growly, too, giggling at her attempt.

She could practically hear the hidden smile in his voice when he responded, “You’re a little tipsy, I can tell. Please leave the earbud in? Just so I can hear that you got home safe. Please?”

“Okay, okay,” she relented. Who could say no to a pleading Oliver Queen?

“Thank you.”

Felicity rolled her eyes as she exited the bathroom, earbud still in place. She met the smile of What’s-His-Face. “Okay… you.” Yeah, that wasn’t awkward at all. “Let’s go home. To my home. Not yours. And..” Slow down. Breathe. Don’t laugh. “Yeah. Moving on.”

He offered her his arm and she took it because the shoes were literally a pain, and she had trouble walking on the spiked heels when sober. Which she definitely wasn’t right now.

The drive to her apartment was way more pleasant than she’d expected from What’s-His-Face.

She’d done her best to discourage his advances, letting her word vomit run wild. She’d told him that she was a super geek, divulging her passion for Doctor Who to hopefully scare him off. Instead, he’d laughed and quoted the Doctor, leaving her gaping at him before she laughed at the absurdity of this situation. They’d traded quotes back and forth the whole way to her place and when they arrived, her mood was significantly lightened, as only the Doctor could accomplish.

Even walking up to her door, the guy continued with the geek TV show references, actually getting her to outright laugh again.

Not that it was a difficult feat considering she was still feeling the effects of the alcohol from Verdant. The bartender there, Kyle, always poured heavy for Felicity, ever since she’d been able to recover his manuscript off his hard drive that had a disastrous encounter with his two-year-old and some orange juice. And she’d had quite a few of his drinks tonight. She was a lightweight; it would be a bit before she sobered up.

She’d been so lost in her head remembering the particulars of fixing Kyle’s laptop that she hadn’t noticed What’s-His-Face start angling for an invite inside. No matter how many drinks she’d had, his voice calling her a secretary was loud and clear in her memory. There was no way this guy was getting in her apartment. She couldn’t help but giggle at how hard he was trying though. It was entertaining.

It was less so when the guy artificially softened his face and told her she was beautiful. Even drunk she could see right through that little play, especially when choreographed with his hand pushing a piece of her hair behind her ear. How many romance novels had this guy read?

When he leaned in for a kiss, Felicity couldn’t help the gasp that left her lips. But it wasn’t because of Mr. Questionable Name. No, when he’d moved, she caught sight of the flowers by the door of her apartment.

This time the petals were a bluish purple, setting off the bright white of the multiple stamens. And there were a lot of them. So many. She'd have to step over them to get into her apartment.

She ducked under What’s-His-Face's arm while his eyes were closed and he was leaning into her personal space. Like _that_ was ever going to happen. She didn't even know which name was really his!

"Thanks for the ride, and the quote war, it was nice to meet you," she dismissed him.

If she would have looked at his face, she'd have seen his shocked expression move quickly into annoyance and anger, but she was too focused on the brightly colored blooms at her door to give Whatever-His-Name-Is any more of her attention. She only had so much brain power, and while it was significantly more than non-genius levels, she was also inebriated, and couldn't waste the extra focus power on a guy she wasn't interested in.

Now, if Oliver had been leaning in to kiss her, the apocalypse wouldn't have been able to drag her attention away from him. But that was a different story, and a different guy. And why was she even thinking about Oliver Queen when her stalker was back with the leaving flowers thing again?

 _This_ was why she couldn't give What’s-His-Face any additional attention - her extra brain capacity would always be thinking about Oliver Queen in the periphery.

She scoured the five full bouquets on the floor in front of her door, but there was nothing. No note. No indication of any flower company that dropped them off. Nada.

Screw this guy. Or girl. She supposed it could be a girl. This was the 21st century and girls could be stalkers, too, probably. Not that she'd heard of that happening, outside of girls with celebrity crushes that would take it too far. But Felicity Smoak wasn't a celebrity. And why was she thinking about being a celebrity again?

Oh right, she was drunk. And the guy sending her flowers had struck again. And she was assuming it was a guy because she wasn't famous. Focus, Felicity.

She shoved her keys into the locks, trying multiple keys in each one before she got them to work. Damn, Digg and his overprotectiveness. He'd forced her to install multiple locks, all keyed differently, on her doors as a security measure after she'd been forced to move from her old apartment. Additionally, she had a security system that she'd designed, similar to the one she used in the lair, also at Digg’s insistence. It was sweet, really, how much he cared, and she absolutely loved him for it, but at times like these, where she was drunk and panicked, it was a definite hindrance to her getting inside.

Finally in the safety of her home, she warred with herself about what to do with the vases of flowers outside. On one hand, she could leave them where they were. But if she did that, Kara would see them when she came home in the morning. And they could be seen by other early morning visitors that she might have. Not that it happened a lot, but she wasn't sure whether Oliver would decide to make it a habit. And she _definitely_ didn't want Oliver seeing the flowers, for so many reasons. Also, if she left them outside, there was a chance they'd be gone by morning. She still didn't live in the best of neighborhoods, so someone might come along and steal them from her door. If that happened, she'd be losing potential evidence.

But, if she brought them inside, she was bringing something from a potential stalker into her home, and that seemed like a terrible idea. The flowers could give off toxic fumes or something. Maybe her stalker had hidden a microphone or a tiny camera in them. Or they could be filled of sex pollen, like she'd read about in so many fanfiction stories, and her stalker could wait for her to be infected and show up. Plus, if he was watching, he could interpret that her bringing them inside as her acceptance, maybe even excitement for receiving them. People like this were delusional, and she didn't want to do anything that could be read as encouragement. These were the scenarios that Drunk Felicity was coming up with. Drunk Felicity was fantastic at letting her imagination go to work.

Ultimately the logical Felicity that was buried under all the irrationality of Drunk Felicity won out. And Logical Felicity knew she couldn't let the evidence potentially disappear. Besides, sex pollen wasn't really a thing, right?

She turned the knob of her front door slowly, attempting to open the door as quietly as possible. It seemed important to Drunk Felicity to keep things as quiet as possible, even though the door itself opening would've been a visual cue that Felicity was coming back out anyway. When the door was fully opened, she stuck her head out and looked for any sign that someone might be watching her. Aside from the security cameras that she'd installed for her security system, there was no evidence that anyone was watching. She quickly pulled each vase inside and shut the door, throwing all three deadbolts in rapid succession and resetting her security system.

There. They were in. The evidence was preserved. But, she was in no condition to be doing any analysis on them tonight. So now? She desperately needed a distraction to stop the panic from hitting her full force. Otherwise, she would just sit there, panicking all night, her drunk brain coming up with increasingly terrifying scenarios as to who her stalker might be. And because she was drunk, Logical Felicity was having a hard time coming out to make Felicity behave in a semi-rational manner. So, a distraction was necessary.

What had never once failed to provide Felicity Smoak with a distraction? Oliver Queen, of course.

With that thought, she fished her phone out of her purse and opened it. She pulled up the pictures and went to send one to Oliver, hoping that the act of sending him another picture would get her to panic about that rather than the stalker flowers littering the floor in front of her doorway. She opened her contacts, found Oliver's name, and attached the picture.

As her finger was hovering above the SEND button, she realized her mistake. If there were contacts listed in that phone, that meant it was her personal phone and not the safe burner phone that Oliver didn't know about. She'd almost revealed her biggest secret to the one man who could never know. Frak. Normally Drunk Felicity was still too smart to come close to making that kind of rookie mistake, but her panic at the flowers had thrown her off her game.

Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she went back to searching her purse for the proper burner phone. Finally locating it, she pulled it out and powered it up. Then the phone did something it had never done before. It buzzed with a notification. Her burner phone had received a text.

**9:45 A.M.: Hello, Beautiful.**

Oliver Queen had texted back in response to the boudoir photographs she'd sent him. What. The. Frak.

She wasn't sure why that one fact surprised her so much. After all, that's what a person was supposed to do in response to a text message. They were supposed to respond. Why had super tech genius Felicity Smoak not anticipated that Oliver Queen might respond to the pictures she'd been sending him anonymously? But she hadn't, and she was thrown for a loop that he had.

 _Hello, Beautiful._ That's what his text message had said. He'd called her beautiful. A semi-hysterical giddiness threatened to consume her. It was the first time she'd had confirmation that Oliver had liked what he saw in those pictures. She'd suspected from the few times she'd seen him open the messages that he'd liked them, but she hadn't been sure. Now, Oliver was telling her that he absolutely thought her body was sexy. And then it hit her, what the message really was.

It was an invitation to start a dialogue. All she had to do was respond, and she'd be texting Oliver Queen. Not that she hadn't already been texting him. Felicity texted him semi-regularly for work reasons, giving him quick updates, helpful reminders, etc. She'd even texted him the occasional inspirational quote, hoping he'd find the humor in them. But this was different. This wouldn't be Felicity Smoak texting Oliver Queen, it would be Anonymous Sexy Picture Girl responding to him.

Well, she'd wanted a distraction.

**12:46 A.M.: Hey yourself.**

Almost immediately three little dots popped up on her screen indicating that Oliver Queen was texting her back. Right that instant.

**12:47 A.M.: She does exist. May I ask with whom do I have the pleasure of texting?**

She should have known Oliver would be a perfect grammarian via text. After all, he'd been on the Island for a lot of the textspeak revolution. Felicity couldn't help her eyes rolling into the back of her head, nor could she help the little smile she let loose as she tapped out her response.

**12:47 A.M.: U can ask. I won't tell. Spoilers.**

She giggled at her response, hearing River Song's voice in her head on that last word. Only when she shifted in her spot on the floor did she realize she was still in her clubbing clothes. 

While the three dots popped back up on her screen, Felicity reached down and unhooked the straps keeping her feet locked in the heels of pain and kicked the shoes across the floor. She stood up then, wobbling a bit as she attempted to regain her balance sans shoes, and walked down her hallway, hand reaching behind her to lower the zipper of her dress. She was halfway to her bedroom when the red monstrosity puddled at her feet, leaving her in only her bra and panties as she entered her room. Shucking those off as well, she flopped onto her bed letting the cool of the room soothe the heated flush of her skin that had taken hold from a combination of the alcohol and the panic of a few minutes ago.

The burner phone vibrated again, clattering loudly against the hardwood flooring she'd left it on back out in her living room. Her curiosity overwhelmed her sense of inertia, prompting her to get back up to retrieve the phone. On her way, she detoured to her closet to grab a tank top and sleep shorts from her collection. 

The thin white tank top would allow the chilly air to continue its cooldown of her body and the white shorts with black binary code brought on a sentimental smile as she remembered the proud look her mother had given her on the day she'd received them as a gift: the day she'd graduated two years early from MIT. Her mom had been so proud of Felicity, but also of herself for being able to find the shorts that were all-too appropriate for the occasion.

The repeat vibration pulled her out of her memories. She went into her bathroom, grabbed a makeup removing wipe from her counter, and padded back out to the living room while gently stroking away the remnants of her makeup. She scooped the phone off of her floor and stumbled over to her couch, banging her shin on the coffee table in her drunken state.

Gently, she lowered herself onto the plush cushions and read Oliver's messages.

**12:48 A.M.: Well, if you won’t tell me who you are, show me.**

**12:49 A.M.: Please?**

She imagined him giving her a set of impossibly blue puppy dog eyes. The same ones he usually gave her when he was trying to get his way over something she found to be objectionable. Like that one time he'd ordered broccoli on their pizza because he wanted Felicity to eat more vegetables. She'd given in that day, too.

She quickly pulled up the picture she was going to send him before, then decided against it. He had asked her to show him, afterall, so he would at least get a hint. Drunk Felicity was bold. 

Scrolling through the photos that she had loaded into the phone’s storage, she settled on one of her absolute favorites. It was one of the few shots that Kara and Felicity had decided to leave in color. After all of the girls had seen it, the vote to not edit anything about the picture was unanimous. In it, Felicity was laying on a white, completely undetailed bedspread and the backdrop was also white, setting off the colors even more. She was clothed in a dark purple, single piece bodysuit. One section on her back and the section of the bra was made of lace, while the other panels around her body were simply sheer fabric.

There was additional lace detail surrounding the bottom of the bodysuit, hugging tightly to the upper portion of her butt, making her ass look incredible. Like most of the lingerie pieces they’d all picked for the photoshoot, this outfit had her wearing thigh high stockings that were attached to the bottom of the delicate piece.

She was laying on her stomach in the picture, with a few blonde curls thrown over her shoulder, visible to anyone who viewed the picture. In this case, Oliver Queen. It would be one of the first pictures she sent him that revealed her natural hair color.

Drunk Felicity clicked send before Logical Felicity could finish screaming internally.

She waited for his response. And waited. And waited some more. Her eyes began to droop and she had to fight to keep them open. Just when she was about to lose the battle with unconsciousness, the phone vibrated in her had startling her eyes open.

**1:15 A.M.: You are seriously gorgeous.**

**1:15 A.M.: But that’s not what I meant.**

Of course that’s not what he meant. He wanted a picture of her face, he wanted to know who was behind sending him the pictures. He would totally flip his lid if she did that. Drunk Felicity considered the idea for a minute, but decided it was more fun to toy with him.

**1:16 A.M.: Don’t be a spoilsport.**

**1:17 A.M.: I’m not trying to spoil anything. I just want to know whom I should thank for sending me picture of a gorgeous woman.**

Perfect punctuation and grammar again. Was this some kind of ploy to be perceived as flirty or sexy? It was kind of working.

**1:17 A.M.: You should probably thank the tech gods. They’re the ones who created the digital camera and the cell phone. Both of which were used in bringing these pictures to the screen for your viewing pleasure.**

**1:17 A.M.: It has definitely been a pleasure.**

Guh. What was she supposed to say to that? Her brain was too fried and too drunk to come up with anything cogent. Everything that popped into her head sounded super dorky and super geeky or literally made no sense. How her mind got her to consider saying something about a platypus was one she was sure psychologists would study for years to come, if only they could read her thoughts.

She hadn’t realized how long she’d gone without responding to his text message until the phone buzzed in her hand, lighting up with a new message.

**1:25 A.M.: I apologize if that was coming on too strong. Did I lose you?**

Knowing Oliver as well as she did, she could hear the underlying guilt and self-loathing he was injecting into that last text. He probably felt like he’d reverted to Ollie Queen and was beating himself up for it immensely. She rolled her eyes as she realized what she’d just thought - how did he have her referring to him in different third person names? It was creepy.

She needed to pull him out of that funk. Now.

**1:25 A.M.: Nope. I was just thinking about sending you another picture. For your pleasure, of course.**

Drunk Felicity was _definitely_ bold. She was sitting there, gripping her phone, picturing Oliver getting _pleasure_ out of her pictures, and she felt a flush cover her body that had nothing to do with her alcohol consumption.

**1:26 A.M.: Yes. You should absolutely do that.**

**1:26:A.M.: Please. Do that.**

She giggled at his blatant begging for more pictures. It was too adorable picturing his gorgeous baby blues wide open, trying to con more naughty pictures out of her. Oliver Queen desperately wanted to see more of her body.

But, she was drunk. And she was sitting down on her couch with her head leaned back in the cushions, a warm blanket over her legs. The alcohol running through her veins was making her relaxed and tired. So very, very tired. She couldn’t send him another picture in this state. Who knew what she might send!

**1:27 A.M.: Sry 2 disappoint, Mr. Queen. You’ll just have to wait until tmrw.**

His response was immediate.

**1:27 A.M.: So you know who I am. I should get to know who you are, too. Fair play and all.**

**1:27 A.M.: Not going to happen.**

**1:28 A.M.: Earlier, you said, 'Spoilers.' Does that mean you will eventually tell me who you are?**

_Not frakking likely_ , Felicity thought to herself. If she had her way, he would never find out. But she couldn't very well tell him that.

**1:30 a.m.: The mystery is part of the fun.**

That was a vague enough answer. She hadn't said that she would never tell him, but she hadn't agreed to it, either.

The couch cushions began calling to her, begging her to sink further down into their warmth. She pulled the blanket up over her shoulders, settling in to wait for the next text message from Oliver to come through. Her head leaned back and she snuggled further down into her couch. Her eyes slowly slipped closed.

Her thoughts were occupied with the idea of Oliver somehow discovering that it was Felicity sending him these pictures. Her mind kept imagining different scenarios over and over, and since it was her imagination, most of the scenarios she created ended with them tangled together in bed. Or on her couch. Or the mat on the floor of the lair. Or against the wall in his office. As her mind kept playing them out, they drifted from conscious fantasies into even better dreams, and her mind never again strayed to the bunches of flowers waiting on her floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THEY'RE TEXTING. And the maybe-stalker has made another appearance. Seriously - what's with all the flowers? 
> 
> Want to see what the picture that Felicity sent to Oliver looks like? Head to the [Pinterest Board](https://www.pinterest.com/thebookjump1732/picture-perfect/) that I've set up for this story.
> 
> Also - don't forget to follow me on [Tumblr](http://thebookjumper.tumblr.com) to get Sneak Peeks that I post between chapters and ask to be tagged so you'll get notified about Sneak Peeks and Updates right away.
> 
> Comments make me happy!!


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everybody - I am SO SORRY that it has taken me this long to get this out. Remember last time when I said that I'd get on a more regular schedule now that things had settled down at work? Yeah, the next day I got an insane amount of work dumped on me. I've been working 12+ hours a day, weekends, too. Just ask MissyRIVER - my life has been miserable lately.
> 
> So let me tell you about this chapter. Because I'm only posting half of what I have written for this chapter. Seriously, this thing became a monster which necessitated me chopping it up. I wanted to wait until I had the full thing to post, but I realized that this was plenty for now, and you'd all probably appreciate an update sooner rather than later. This ALSO means that I have the majority of the next chapter written, too. Which means an update so much faster than last time - I swear.
> 
> But from now on, I'm not promising any kind of posting schedule because my job and my hours are so unpredictable that I have no idea when I'll actually have time to write.
> 
> This one doesn't have a lot of forward progress in it because most of that comes in the back half of what I wrote, but there are definitely some important developments.
> 
> After this chapter and the next one, things will start to heat up and move faster. Why? Read the end note.
> 
> As always, thank you MissyRIVER for being my fantastic beta. I wouldn't have made it this far without you.

# Picture Perfect

### Chapter 12

This past week had been one for the books as far as Oliver Queen was concerned, and he wasn't entirely sure how he felt about it.

On the one hand, his mystery girl was becoming less of a mystery. Well, that wasn't entirely true, he supposed. He still wasn't any closer to finding out her identity, but he was getting to know her a little, and he definitely liked what he was getting to know.

The night Dickface, or Carter fucking Bowen as he was more commonly known, had taken Felicity back to her place, his mystery girl had returned his text message with one of her own, and their conversation had served to improve his mood immensely.

She was fun and flirty, and she didn't cave to his begging, despite knowing who he was. That was definitely a first for a woman. Well, maybe a second; Felicity didn't usually cave to him, either, and she knew that he was Oliver Queen _and_ the Hood.

After that first night, which was innuendo-laden and full of banter, she had become slightly more reserved in her texts, occasionally even going over twenty-four hours without responding to him. It was like she had pulled back after that first night, and he didn't know why. He _had_ alluded to masturbating to her pictures, maybe _that_ had caused her recent reticence?

Although, to be fair, his brain had placed Felicity in those photos and fantasies, so he really wasn't using the pictures of Mystery Girl. He was really thinking about Felicity the whole time. But it's not like he could tell Mystery Girl that. _Oh, by the way, I totally imagined another girl in the photos you sent me. That's cool with you, right?_

Yeah, he didn't foresee that going over so well.

While he wasn't sure exactly what had made Mystery Girl hold back in their daily conversations, the texting had still been pretty fantastic. There was just something about her that put him at ease. He could almost hear her sing-song tune every time she refused to give up her identity, denying him by saying, "Spoilers.”

And he couldn't deny that every time he read a text from her, something felt the slightest bit familiar about the way the words were strung together. It was so easy to feel comfortable with her. God, he hoped she wasn't a reporter - he'd be completely screwed if she was.

But the pictures she’d sent him? Words were inadequate.

She’d definitely pulled back in the conversations since the first night they’d texted, but she hadn’t pulled back on the pictures. At all. He’d received a few more that week, each one stunningly gorgeous, but it was that first one this week that had struck him, because in that one, blonde curls were visible. And not only that, but the way the blonde had been so multi-dimensional had triggered another realization for Oliver. He’d been so distraught at finding a picture with dark hair, but looking at the blonde in that photograph made him realize that blonde had to be her actual hair color. Compared to the pictures of the dark hair, the blonde stood out. Someone had taken the time to make darker blonde and lighter blonde sections. Comparing that hair color to the one in the brunette pictures, he’d realized that the brunette was too one-dimensional to be a real.

So his Mystery Girl was blonde.

That opened up a whole other can of problems for Oliver Queen.

Because now? Mystery Girl was blonde. And Felicity was blonde. And the last of his ability to distinguish between the two women in his fantasies had deserted him completely. Every picture he’d received from Mystery Girl now starred Felicity in the fantasies they inspired. And he’d never felt more like a jackass. Or, he should say he’d never felt more like Ollie Queen since he’d been back from the island. Well, maybe with Isabel.

Oliver was enjoying getting these boudoir pictures of a gorgeous woman, a woman who he actually enjoyed talking to, and instead of focusing on the woman actually in the photos, he was picturing Felicity Smoak, the girl of his dreams that he couldn’t let himself have.

Texting Mystery Girl felt harmless. It was anonymous, it was all virtual, and no one could connect the two of them together, making it safe for him to be in contact with her. Well, no one except for Diggle. And Thea, who’d found out in the worst way possible - by grabbing his phone before he could reach it when the message notification went off, proclaiming him to be “too smiley for it to not be an important person.”

Grabbing the phone out of her hand, he couldn’t even find it in his heart to chastise her over the “Holy Fuck” she let out at viewing the picture because the sentiment was completely accurate. That particular image had given him fodder for his showers all week.

In it, Feli-- ahem -- Mystery Girl’s toned abdomen was completely stretched out because her torso was on the floor and her legs were propped up on either a couch or an ottoman, her hips lifted into the air; the photo was cropped so that only her thigh and stomach were visible. And her arms. The arms that ended in hands. Those hands? They appeared to be in the process of sliding a pair of black, cotton panties down her hips and across the swell of her fantastic ass.

It had only been Thea’s exclamation of “Is some girl that you like texting you dirty pictures, Ollie?!” that broke him out of his open-mouthed gaping.

He’d made her aware that it was a complete invasion of privacy for her to grab his phone like that, but she didn’t seem to care, demanding more information about the girl because “it’s been such a long time since I’ve seen that smile on your face, and I want to know more about the girl that put it there.”

Knowing that she’d never let it drop, he had to tell her the truth. That some girl had started texting him pictures out of nowhere and he had no idea who she was.

As the story tumbled from his mouth to his sister, he felt more and more relieved to be able to tell someone else the whole story, including about the texting and the comfort level he had with this girl. He couldn’t even tell Digg that part because the man would worry about security risks and would probably yell at him about communicating with his anonymous cybergirl. Plus, Digg would definitely be disapproving because of his current relationship status with Felicity, or the non-existence of one. But Thea? Thea just genuinely wanted him to be happy, and her smile grew wider and wider with every new detail he shared about this girl.

Luckily, she’d let it go at the end of the conversation, only stating, “I may not approve of her methods, but I can’t deny I love seeing that smile back on your face, Ollie,” hugging him, and heading out to meet Roy.

He hadn’t realized that Thea had noticed his lack of smiling. He did his best around her, but apparently his little sister was more perceptive than he’d thought, recognizing that the smiles around the family had been fake.

But honestly? He hadn’t really noticed himself forcing any smiles lately. Probably because real ones happened frequently around Felicity, and he’d gotten used to actually smiling again. Maybe they weren’t as big as they’d been before the island, or as noticeable, but he’d been actually smiling much more since the blonde tech genius had taken over the computers in the basement of the foundry.

So apparently his smiles were all for Felicity and Mystery Girl. And Thea had only been privy to his smiles for Mystery Girl, having not had that much interaction with Felicity yet. And thank God, for that, because he was sure that if Thea had a physical girl sitting in front of her and saw Oliver’s smiles, she wouldn’t stop trying to manipulate them together, and he couldn’t have that. He’d never survive Thea’s machinations driving him towards the girl he already used every ounce of his willpower to stop himself from having.

Thinking of his gorgeous tech genius had Oliver remembering the reason he’d felt on edge all week.

There was something wrong with Felicity.

Even worse, there was something wrong and she still wasn’t telling him, despite her previous promise.

It had started the morning after she’d let Dickface drive her home in that sinful dress. Even though Digg had forced Oliver to shut off his comms after he was pretty sure Dickface kissed her, his friend had forgotten to make Oliver give up the comm completely. So the earbud had accompanied him back to the empty manor that night, but had laid on his nightstand while he’d chatted with his Mystery Girl.

The tiny piece of tech had never been far from his mind, but he couldn’t bring himself to turn it on, not even to check on her, because he was absolutely sure that the sound of Felicity sleeping with someone that was not him would completely gut him. Even though he knew Felicity wasn’t the kind of girl that would actually invite someone she’d just met inside for the night, the slim chance that Dickface had spent the night with Oliver’s Girl Wednesday had kept the earbud turned pointedly off throughout the night.

But the next morning, the earpiece was taunting him.

Surely, she’d at least taken it out at some point throughout the night, right? It was likely he wouldn’t be able to hear anything at all. But, if she’d left it on, then he’d be able to confirm that she was okay.

If he listened to it, that was a gross invasion of her privacy, right?

He argued with himself for at least ten minutes until he finally gave in and placed the plastic device back in his ear, flicking it on.

Instantly hearing her voice, he calmed somewhat.

He hadn’t been able to catch every word she was saying but he heard bits and pieces. “Frakking flowers… just die… who the… sex pollen… not a thing…”

He couldn’t help the smile that had stretched over his face. The fact that she actually talked to herself out loud was adorable. He could just picture her in the same tiny shorts and thin tank top that he’d seen her in the day before, puttering around her apartment, mumbling grumpily in the morning. It was a scene he’d love to be a part of. If only that were in the cards.

It wasn’t until he’d registered the tension in her tone as she mumbled to herself that he realized something wasn’t right. This wasn’t her typical, uncaffeinated morning grouchiness. She was on edge.

He kept listening in, fully aware of how wrong it was for him to invade her privacy, but needing to make sure that everything was okay with her. He overheard some more grumbling about petals and water and then the shower turned on, and he knew he wouldn’t get any more information.

He’d had every intention of subtly interrogating her about it at the lair that night, but when he’d arrived, she’d already been at her computer, typing furiously with that single-minded focus that he would find terrifying if he didn’t recognize the exact same trait in himself when his bow was in his hand.

There was no prying her attention from her computers to get his answers.

She had been completely on point all night, directing them to potential informants who could give them information, listening to the police scanners, providing descriptions, hacking security camera systems, and anything else that they needed. With her head pulled away from whatever she’d been doing earlier in the evening, Oliver had been sure he’d get some answers when he got back to the foundry, but when he walked in, her laser-like focus was back on her computer monitors, fingers flying across the keyboard, and nonresponsive to either Digg or Oliver calling her name.

He’d left disappointed that night, and every night since then. Whatever was bugging her only seemed to get worse throughout the week. At one point, he’d even caught her having a whisper shouting match with Digg that both parties immediately ceased when he walked through the doors of his office.

He hated that both of his teammates were keeping something from him. And from the dark circles under Felicity’s eyes and the way Digg kept watch over her, like he wanted to knock some sense into her and hug her close all at the same time, it was definitely something big.

Oliver knew that he'd screwed up by running away to Lian Yu after the disastrous Undertaking, and not for the first time, he wondered if that selfish act had driven a permanent wedge between him and his team. Why else would Felicity not trust him with whatever was going on? She trusted Digg, obviously.

The pang of jealousy at their closeness hit him again. Surely, they had to know he would do everything in his power to help them. Well, Felicity didn't know the full extent of his feelings for her, that he would do anything to keep her safe and smiling, but Diggle did. So Oliver couldn't understand why his brother in arms wouldn't share with him what was going on with Felicity. 

Except he could. Kind of. If Thea had come to him in confidence and begged him not to say anything to Mom or to Roy, he knew he’d cave. And if Diggle thought of Felicity like a little sister, which Oliver knew he did, the man would do everything in his power to help her and would not betray that trust for anything.

So all Oliver could do was sit back and watch her get worse. And let it slowly kill him. Every time her eyes darted through her surroundings like she was looking for danger around every corner, every time she jolted a little when Oliver came up behind her and spoke her name, tore at his heart. She’d promised to tell him if it got worse, and it obviously had. And he planned on confronting her about it. Tonight.

Because tonight was Halloween. And there was a party at Verdant. The perfect cover. He could be seen mingling in public, he could sneak down to the lair in the basement, suit up, and be on the streets quickly, and he damn well could pull Felicity into a secluded area and make her tell him what the hell was going on.

He could also hopefully work out who his Mystery Girl was, because she’d let it slip that she’d be going to the party tonight, too.

She’d let it slip one night after texting him that she had a special picture lined up for him for Halloween. She had impeccable timing; she always seemed to text him while he was otherwise occupied, so it had taken him longer than he’d like to see her text, which was especially troubling because it was the only thing that could distract him from his worries. About his mother’s trial, Thea and Roy, the gang that they couldn’t nail to the wall, and Felicity.

**12:35 A.M.: I had to tell u abt it now so I couldn’t back out l8r.**

**2:14 A.M.: Why would you back out from sending me a picture? It must be incredibly sexy if you find sending it to me more difficult than sending the others.**

He had been on patrol and hadn’t felt any vibrations alerting him to new messages, and he’d been so distracted while in Felicity’s presence that he hadn’t even thought to check his phone until he’d left the foundry, a little after 2 in the morning. He’d known it was late and he hadn’t expected a response at all until morning, but his Mystery Girl had surprised him, responding almost instantly.

**2:14 A.M.: It is.**

**2:14 A.M.: So, u knowing abt it means u’ll be expecting it, so I’ll have to send it.**

**2:15 A.M.: Well, you could just come and show me in person. Introduce yourself.**

He hadn’t been able to stop himself. It had become their thing, he always asked who she was and she always shot him down.

**2:16 A.M.: Nope. Spoilers.**

**2:16 A.M.: Verdant is having a Halloween party that night. You could introduce yourself in costume.**

**2:16 A.M.: Could, but won't.**

He almost dropped his phone in his excitement. The Arrow almost dropped his fucking phone.

**2:17 A.M.: Are you seriously going to be there?**

And Mystery Girl had gone radio silent at that point, which he absolutely took as a confirmation.

That meant he'd be in the same place as Mystery Girl _and_ Felicity tonight. That fact was probably why his nerves were making him feel like he was back in middle school asking Mandy Miller if she wanted to go to the school dance with him.

His palms were sweaty, and he was thankful for the leather gloves that comprised part of his costume, allowing him to keep that fact a secret from everyone. Turning, he took one last look in the mirror, then slipped the mask over his face. Judging himself to be acceptable, and amused at the irony his costume presented, he climbed the stairs in the basement of Verdant until he reached the back entrance to the club.

Where he promptly ran smack into Felicity.

Grabbing her shoulders to steady her, the first thing he noticed was that she was significantly shorter than he was used to, but that realization was followed immediately by the hair. Because Felicity’s blonde locks that were usually perfectly coiffed, now were anything but. Her head was a mass of tightly-wound, perfectly-formed ringlets that were practically running wild. The volume of her hair must have made her head at least double the size of normal.

Letting his gaze slide down from her face, he noticed the rest of her costume. She was wearing a gray dress completely different from her typical style. Where she normally wore sleek, sophisticated dresses, this one looked like a sleeveless dress shirt on top, and had folds of fabric for a loose-fitting skirt in place of the usually body-hugging dresses that showed off her curves. She’d cinched a thick, brown leather belt around her slim waist, accentuating how tiny she really was. Another band slung just below that one and held up what appeared to be a holster off one of her hips, with a toy gun shoved inside. Her outfit was finished off with a pair of brown tights and mid-calf brown combat boots with a flat sole. That explained her lack of height.

Having her here, held nearer to him than she’d been in over a week, felt immensely right. And with her flat shoes on, Oliver could tell her head would fit perfectly under his chin if he tugged her closer into his chest and held her close.

It was only her peal of laughter that jolted him out of his thoughts.

He gave her a quizzical look, trying to figure out what had her laughing so hard.

“Batman? Really, Oliver?” Felicity stuttered out between laughs.

“What’s so funny about that?” He looked at her like she’d gone slightly crazy, but he couldn’t bring himself to be offended. He honestly didn’t care what about him brought that laughter forth; he’d strip naked in the boardroom to pull that reaction from her after the stress he’d watched her carry around all week.

“No-nothing,” she wheezed. Yeah, that was definitely convincing.

He watched as she visibly willed herself to calm down, but couldn’t. He knew it was entertaining from her perspective, one vigilante dressed up as another, but he didn’t think it was really full, belly laugh material. But who could care when she looked absolutely stunning, the smile splitting her face wide open. He felt a little tug of pride in his chest knowing that this laugh, he’d put on her face. Even if it was at his expense.

“Sorry, Oliver. It’s just a little too apropos, don’t you think?”

He gave her one of the smiles that he reserved only for her, her answering grin causing little flutters to spread throughout his belly. “That’s why I did it. Show a little support for a fellow vigilante, you know? Plus, I look good in black, don’t you think?”

“I always think you look good. Black, green, shirt, shirtless. Not that I’ve been looking at you shirtless. Well, I mean, obviously I’ve seen you shirtless downstairs. Not downstairs, like, _your_ downstairs,” she gestured helplessly to his pants, apparently completely unable to stop herself. “Just - you know - downstairs. And you look good then. Always. You look good always.” He could feel his mouth twitch up at the corners. He’d never been able to stop himself from reacting to her. “Objectively, though. Not that I think you’re attractive. Just that you’re objectively hot. Even though I do. Think you’re attractive.” 

Her face turned bright red as her eyes met his, pleading with him. “ _Please_ , stop me.”

It was only when she’d clamped her hand forcibly over her mouth to stop herself from spewing words that he noticed his hands were still on her shoulders, his thumbs now rubbing soothing circles into the ends of her collarbones, his fingertips tingling where he touched her skin.

“Not a chance,” he told her as his thumbs continued moving along her skin, consciously this time, completely unwilling to break the contact. “It’s been too long since I’ve heard a babble like that.” He couldn’t help let the despair seep into his tone and his face as he remembered the dearth of conversation recently. He’d come to rely on the light that radiated from his girl and he wasn’t sure how to function when it was lacking from his life.

She looked down at her feet, drawing patterns on the floor with her toe. “Yeah, I’ve been kinda quiet lately.”

“Not just quiet, Felicity. We’ve barely spoken in a week, other than over comms. And last week you promised me that you would talk to me if whatever was bothering you got worse.” He could feel his arms tense, his fingers clenching slightly on her shoulders, pulling her the tiniest bit closer to him.

When she didn’t respond to him, didn’t look at him, he allowed his hand to move to her cheek, cupping her jaw and gently raising her face back up to his until her watery gaze met his. His thumb trailed over the ridge of her cheekbone. “Whatever’s bothering you, I’m here. I’m here for you, Felicity.”

“I know, Oliver. But you have so much on your plate right now between the company failing and your mother being in jail, awaiting trial. The last thing you need is the additional burden of my problems. You need to focus on your family right now, Oliver. Let me handle this.” Her voice wavered at the end, cluing him in to just how shaken she was.

But it was the conviction in her voice that struck him. She honestly believed that the company and his mother’s legal problems would and should trump her. He could _not_ let that stand for another second.

“Listen to me. You are _not_ a burden. You are my family, Felicity. As much as Thea, as my mom. You and John, both. You’re always there for me. You always help me. Let me help you now. For once. _Please, let me help you._ ” He needed her to understand, he needed her to let him in. He needed her to trust him. “Don’t shut me out.”

As she geared up to respond, he felt her exhale flutter across his neck, making him realize just how close they were. He could feel the heat radiating from her skin through his shirt. An inch or two closer and he’d be able to feel the curves of her breasts pressed into his chest, and the urge to kiss her senseless, to show her with his lips exactly how much she meant to him, shot through him like a tangible force of want. He was only able to stop himself from acting on it by exerting the full power of his island-honed self-control.

“I’m not shutting you out. I promise. But, not every problem is one you have to solve, Oliver.”

“No, but I can listen.” _Just talk to me, Felicity,_ he wanted to beg her. “I can support you however you need. Even if it’s just to bounce a plan off of.”

Her arm lifted between them, and his chest burned where she landed a placating pat on him directly over his heart, even through his fake Batman armor.

“If I believed for one second you could listen without acting, I’d tell you. But I know you, and I know you wouldn’t be able to stop yourself.”

“So tie me up.”

Did he just say what he thought he had? Were those actually the words that had left his mouth?

“Platonically, I mean. So that I’d have no choice but to… listen. I mean. Not for anything sexual. Not that I have a problem with some kink. It’s served me well, uh, before. But, that’s not what I mean here. I just meant so that I couldn’t do anything.” He could feel the blood congregating in his ears, no doubt making the tips turn bright pink. Thank God Batman’s mask was full coverage.

At least the smile was back on her face, even if her cheeks were tinged red with embarrassment. “Oh man, is that what it’s like for everyone else when I do that?” She ducked her head away from him again.

“No. Not at all. You’re adorable. That was just embarrassing.” He didn’t miss the way her face immediately shuttered at his words, the slight smile falling away, her eyes full of sadness and a hint of resignation. But that didn’t make sense at all.

“And not helpful at all. It would solve the problem temporarily, but you’d jump into action the minute I released you from the handcuffs.”

Well, _fuck him_. He could just see it. Felicity dressed up in a leather bustier and fishnets, biting her lip as she leaned over where he was sat in a chair, his face nuzzling into the side of her neck as she clicked the handcuffs onto his wrists behind the chair, locking him in place. He’d be her willing captive, dressed only in black boxers and a button-down shirt. She’d rip the shirt open, scattering buttons across the floor, then she’d straddle his thighs, pressing her hot core into his lap. He’d meet her teasing gaze, her pupils blown wide with desire, knowing his matched. She’d lean into him, her mouth placed right next to his ear, and she’d…

“Handcuffs, huh? Kinky.”

At the voice, Oliver realized just how close he and Felicity had gotten to one another. Where before there had been inches, now there were mere millimeters separating them. And she wasn’t pulling away from him, despite the interruption. A blush covered her face and spread across her chest, her bottom lip caught between her teeth, and her eyes darkened. It almost made him think she’d been having the same daydream that he’d indulged in.

“Wait - Queen, are you seriously dressed as Batman right now?” The voice apparently would not be ignored.

“Yes. Do you have a problem with Batman?” Oliver narrowed his eyes at Bruce Wayne. Didn't he have a company to run in Gotham? 

Bruce gave him a smirk that made Oliver want to punch it off of his face. “Nope. I don't know him, but he seems like a cool guy.”

In front of him, Felicity let out a small snort, her head swiveling to look at Bruce. When they locked eyes, Oliver couldn't help but notice that Felicity's eyes seemed to be shining. Why was she looking at him like that?

“I don't know. I always kind of had a thing for Superman.” 

At that statement, both Oliver and Bruce gave Felicity matching exasperated glares. Although, Oliver assumed his was for a much different reason than Bruce's. How could she say she preferred Superman when she worked on Team Arrow? How could she prefer the alien to the man she spent most of her days, and nights, with?

It was Bruce who spoke first, clearly unable to keep his annoyance from his voice. “Superman? Really, Lis, the man wears tights.”

“And knee-high boots,” Oliver added.

“And the hair curl thing? He's such a Try-Hard. Besides, I thought you had a thing for the Hood. Or is it the Arrow, now? I can never keep track of what he's calling himself these days.”

At that, Oliver’s heart jumped. He wasn't stupid, he knew she had feelings for him, but it was something else to hear that she had discussed him with someone. Even if that someone was Bruce Wayne. He burned with curiosity as he turned back to her, seeing she'd finally stepped away from him. His eyes searched her face for any hint as to what she'd said to Bruce that made the man believe she had a thing for the Arrow, for him.

Her face was flushed and she was giving Bruce a panicked stare. When she spoke, her voice sounded almost strangled. “I don't have a thing for the Arrow.” Her panic switched to anger. “And Superman is totally bangable.”

Bruce leveled her with an amused look, “But, you're always talking about the Arrow.”

“I talk about him because I live in a city that has an actual freaking superhero, okay? It's awesome. Shut up.”

Oliver couldn't contain himself. “What does she say about him?”

Instead of the glare he'd expected to receive from Felicity at his question, she turned a full scowl onto Bruce instead. He'd never seen Felicity look so threatening. Even when she was fighting with him, there was always a hint of affection or teasing to her threats. The glower she directed at Bruce had none of that.

And he knew just how much damage she could do. Not with her fists, but with her fingers. So, even with the underlying fondness, he'd always been wary of pissing her off too much. Seeing Felicity like this? Well, Bruce should be terrified.

“Bruce Wayne, if you answer that question, I swear you will no longer own Wayne Enterprises by midnight tonight.”

He knew she could do it. Downright terrifying.

Rather than cowering at her clear ire, Bruce's smile only grew wider, and in response, Felicity’s mouth twitched as she struggled to suppress her own.

What was happening? Why was Felicity clawing back a grin at Bruce Wayne when she had been livid thirty seconds ago, or at least Oliver thought she had.

“And I’ll put you on the no-fly list. Do you know how hard it is to get off of that? I heard a story about a four-year-old who shared a name with someone on the list and they harassed him at the airport.”

“I own a jet,” Bruce replied matter-of-factly.

“You’re supposed to be smart, Bruce. Jets have computers. You can’t honestly believe that I wouldn’t be able to hack that and ground you.” She rolled her eyes at him.

He looked proud of her. Like she was his to be proud of. “I’m sure you could.”

“I absolutely could,” she scoffed. “No power in the ‘verse can stop me.”

Bruce gestured to the outfit Felicity was sporting, “You’re quoting the wrong River, darling.”

At that the grin Felicity had been trying to hold off broke through. “Someone’s been catching up on fandoms. Look at you differentiating between Rivers. I’m so proud.”

Suddenly Oliver felt like the third wheel, even though he knew he and Felicity were on the same team. Unwilling to lose ground and verbal gamesmanship to Bruce Wayne of all people, Oliver caught Felicity’s attention. “I’ve been watching Doctor Who lately. I just finished the episode where the fat is coming off of people in those little, white blobs that have faces and arms and legs.”

The look of disbelief on Felicity’s face would have been funny directed at anyone else. Her mouth was gaping open, her eyes wide with shock. SHe almost looked like a fish. Amusing, except that he’d just told her that he was trying to take an interest in one of her favorite things, and she was looking at him like he’d grown a second head. Like taking an interest in her was so far removed from anything she’d expected from him. It hurt.

For all the shock that appeared on Felicity’s face, Bruce’s matched that level in amusement and smugness. Oliver could see him looking between him and Felicity with something akin to pure glee on his face.

That look could not be good. It could only mean that Bruce thought he’d won something over Oliver. He had to change the subject. Immediately.

“So I take it you’re dressed as someone named River?” he directed the question at Felicity, hoping to edge Bruce out of the conversation.

The question seemed to bring her out of her shock, and she flashed him her pearly whites when she answered him. “Yep. The name’s River Song. _Doctor_ River Song, to be exact. You’ll find out who she is if you keep watching. Which I can’t believe you’re actually doing, by the way.”

Her awed expression met his and he kept it. “I definitely will keep watching, Felicity.” Even after his pronouncement, they kept looking into one another’s eyes, him willing her to see the feelings that he wasn’t ready to put into words. _I’d never watch this show if it weren’t for you. Because I know it’s important to you. And what’s important to you is important to me. And it makes me feel close with you._ He even took a step in her direction, his desperation for her to understand how much she meant to him forcing him to close the distance between them.

Until Bruce laughed, ruining the moment entirely, and causing Oliver to throw a scowl at the other man, growling at him, “What are you even doing here, Bruce?”

Bruce met Oliver’s scowl with a mischievous smirk of his own. “When a pretty girl invites you to a party, you show up.”

Did he just say Felicity _invited_ him? Oliver wasn’t aware that they had any contact with one another outside discussions on the medical lasers project. Did they talk outside of that? How often? It couldn’t be that often, right? She was with him all day at the office and most of the nights in the foundry. There was no way she had time to have non-work conversations with Bruce Wayne. Right?

Thinking back on the conversation they’d had since Bruce showed up, he realized that Bruce had referred to Felicity as ‘Lis’ multiple times and Felicity hadn’t even reacted. For that to be the case, it must be a pretty common occurrence. Jealousy ripped through him. It was nothing like the jealousy he’d felt when he witnessed the close relationship between Diggle and Felicity. He knew theirs was born of friendship like brothers and sisters. But Felicity and Bruce? He knew nothing about their friendship. Or was it more?

He couldn’t let his head go there or he’d unload on Bruce Wayne, and despite how much of a smug ass he’d been to Oliver, he knew that if he punched Bruce in the face, Felicity would be upset. If he was ever going to get her to tell him what was going on, he couldn’t risk upsetting her. And he needed her to talk to him; he had a bad feeling that whatever was going on with her was dangerous. For the sake of her safety, he couldn’t pummel Bruce into the pavement.

But he could make his displeasure known. “ _You invited him?_ ”

Felicity shot him a calculating look, as if she was trying to see inside his mind. “Invited is a strong word. Mentioned I was coming is more accurate.”

Bruce turned an affectionate look onto Felicity that made Oliver’s gut churn. “How could I pass up the chance to see you dressed up like that? Especially when I knew it meant your hair would be done like _that_ ,” he said, gesturing to the wild curls she was sporting. Then he looked back at Oliver and laughed. “And seeing _you_ dressed as Batman is just a bonus.”

Reigning in his desire to inflict damage on Bruce’s person, Oliver gritted his teeth growling out, “And what exactly are you supposed to be?” He punctuated his question by pointing at the tweed jacket and bowtie the man wore.

The smirk was back on Bruce’s face in full force. He crooked his thumb at Felicity. “Her husband.”

Two words had the ability to destroy Oliver Queen. He knew Bruce was referring to their Halloween costumes, but all he could see was Bruce trying to lay claim to Felicity. He could see it span before him. Bruce flying back and forth from Gotham to Starling to visit Felicity, taking her to the best restaurants, galas, spoiling her. In eight months, Felicity would move to Gotham, moving in with Bruce maybe. Leaving Starling. Leaving Team Arrow. Leaving him. He could see Diggle walking Felicity down a long aisle wearing a sparkling white dress and looking breathtaking. Only Diggle was walking her towards the wrong man. The wrong man would take her on vacations all over the world, have the privilege to watch her get ready every day, sleep next to her every night. They’d have kids. And they wouldn’t be Oliver’s. And nothing had ever felt so wrong in his life as those thoughts.

A loud smack broke through his downward spiral and Felicity’s voice immediately following it pulled him out of the darkness. Just as she always did. She was his light. His eyes refocused on the scene in front of him to see Bruce rubbing his chest where it seemed Felicity had struck him. Then he processed what her voice had said.

“Spoilers! Don’t ruin the show for him!” She yelled at Bruce in her loud voice.

Oliver swore his heart stopped. What had she said? ‘Spoilers’ was the same phrase Mystery Girl used every time he begged for her identity.

Now Oliver was well and truly screwed. It was obviously a coincidence. Mystery Girl probably just watched the same show. He knew it was popular, especially in Europe; maybe Mystery Girl was British. But, now that Felicity had used the same word of his anonymous picture girl, his imagination would never be able to stop picturing Felicity in the place of the woman in the photographs. Fuck.

Unless. _Unless_. Could Felicity be Mystery Girl? He’d just realized that Mystery Girl’s hair was blonde. Like Felicity. He supposed it could be dyed instead of natural. Like Felicity.

It _could_ be. Felicity’s body certainly was fantastic enough to appear in all of those pictures. He knew that much for sure. The lingerie wasn’t what he would have (and actually had on many an occasion) imagined his tech goddess wearing under those tight dresses she wore to the office, but he supposed she could be a lace and garter belt aficionado rather than the brightly-colored cotton with polka dots and hearts that he’d pictured. His mind flashed back to the previous week where she’d pressed against him, patching him up, and he felt the distinct impression of a garter belt closure pushing against him.

But then, all the reasons he’d told himself before that it wasn’t Felicity reasserted themselves in his mind. One, Felicity would never send pictures like that over the cellular grid, not when she’d preached to them over and over again to never use their personal cell phones for communications because even she wouldn’t be able to completely hide their communications over the open networks. That was why she insisted on super-encrypted burner phones that they bought with cash.

Two, sending dirty pictures just didn’t seem like Felicity’s style. While she wasn’t subtle about having feelings for him, she’d definitely kept them under wraps more since Russia and everything that had happened after. Truthfully, he’d been worried lately that even if he’d made an advance she’d reject him because of how he’d hurt her with Isabel.

Three, Felicity had even been in his presence a few times when messages had come through. He knew she was sneaky, but so was he, and he definitely would have noticed if she’d been texting at the same time. Especially with how carefully he’d been watching her these past few weeks.

No. Even though part of him wanted it to be Felicity, for incredibly selfish reasons, he knew it couldn’t be. Drawing the parallels between the two women was just an artifact of the strong feelings he had for his blonde partner. While his mind agreed with him that the woman in the photos couldn’t possibly be his Felicity, his heart and imagination weren’t so easily swayed. Even now he was picturing her wearing some of the flimsy lace and ribbon sets from his Mystery Girl’s pictures. Even while she was standing with Bruce Wayne.

Oliver had to remove himself from the emotional roller coaster that was this conversation. “Well, you two enjoy the party. I have some nightclub business to attend to.”

With that, he turned from the pair, his cape billowing behind him as he walked away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So!! Why are things going to start moving a lot quicker? Because all of the necessary players are together and Felicity's accepted that whatever is going on is actually something bad, so she's putting that IQ of hers to work.
> 
> Check out the [Pinterest Board](http://www.pinterest.com/thebookjump1732/picture-perfect) to check out some of the pictures Felicity's been sending.
> 
> Also visit me on [Tumblr](http://thebookjumper.tumblr.com) to get some sneak peeks and just generally harass me over there!  
> Thanks for reading - Don't forget to leave comments.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New Chapter, as promised! Sorry it's a day late - I didn't finish it until late last night and I wanted MissyRIVER to take a look over it before it went up. She gave me the green light this morning, and here you are!
> 
> Thank you to everyone who reads, comments, leaves kudos, wants to be tagged online, and is just generally supportive of the story. You guys are fantastic and I love all of you!!
> 
> Special thanks to my fantastic beta, MissyRIVER. I'd be lost without your help!!

# Picture Perfect

### Chapter 13

Felicity couldn’t help but worry about where they’d left their conversation, but she didn’t know what to do about it. Oliver had seemed almost jealous of her and Bruce, but that was crazy, right? Mr. “Can’t Be With Someone I Could Care About” couldn’t possibly be jealous of her relationship with Bruce Wayne. Her entirely platonic relationship, by the way. True, she’d hid the extent of their relationship from Oliver initially, but that was more about keeping Bruce’s secret identity a secret, and keeping her extracurricular nighttime activities quiet, not because she thought Oliver would care about her friendship with Bruce.

Okay, maybe that was a bit of a lie. She knew Oliver disliked Bruce, but she didn’t know why. She knew they weren’t aware, but they were basically the same person. Both men were billionaires. Both had disappeared for a length of time after one or both of their parents died. Both had some mad fighting skills as a result of whatever happened during their disappearance. Both had turned to vigilantism to save their respective cities. Both used the ditzy playboy routine to skirt suspicion. Seriously, pot and kettle, those two. They should be besties; exchanging weaponry tips, comparing the sizes of their...underground bunkers.

But instead, Oliver had a seemingly intense aversion to Bruce Wayne, and Bruce seemed to enjoy doing anything possible to get a rise out of Oliver. Boys.

Although, to be fair, neither knew of the other’s vigilante-ing ways. You’d think with their similarities, at least one of them would’ve figured it out by now, _but_ , Felicity supposed, _it’s not like her boys were all that bright when it came to the obvious sometimes_.

Still, she’d been unable to help bursting into laughter at seeing Oliver dressed up as Batman. Her poor Arrow would hate it if he found out he’d dressed up as the man he held so much animus for, and Felicity found the irony insanely amusing. Even still, she knew she wouldn’t have laughed that hard if she hadn’t been so stressed all week. Her emotions were always thrown out of whack when she felt like crumbling under pressure. Hence the level of laughter tonight that was about two notches above appropriate levels. Oh well.

She couldn’t help it. When she’d woken up on her couch after the last set of flowers, she’d realized what those flowers meant, and her blood had run cold. Whoever had been sending them knew where she lived. It didn’t take her long to piece together the fact that she had a legitimate stalker. _Again_. Why was it always her? What was so wrong with her that she attracted the crazies to stick to her like glue while the people she _wanted_ around couldn’t wait to get away? Her dad left, Cooper left, Oliver had flat out said there wouldn’t be a relationship between them. But she had the lacrosse player, the guy from the Glades, and now this crazy person giving her attention that she didn’t want, didn’t ask for. Her life was so messed up.

Once she’d realized the pattern of the flowers being sent, she couldn’t deny what was going on. First, she’d received flowers at work. Probably the easiest place to find out where she was. It was no secret that she was Oliver Queen’s Executive Assistant. Half of the tabloids in Starling had run stories about the possible torrid affair between her and Oliver. Then, she’d received flowers at Verdant. Again, a public place that she frequented. It wasn’t a surprise that someone had been able to locate her there. Truthfully, she spent more time at the club than she did at her apartment. And finally, the most recent ones had been at her place. The place he’d most likely only just found.

He’d been going in order of where she went. He’d likely been following her. First, finding her at work, then probably following her to Verdant, maybe giving up when she hadn’t returned home after hours and hours of being in the club. Maybe he’d gone looking for her and been unable to find her. Who knew? But eventually, he must have waited her out, finding her car, and followed her home. Now he knew where she lived. And she was more than just freaked out. She was actually scared.

Until she’d realized that she was probably the person best equipped to deal with this. It wasn’t like she was a stranger to the stalker game. Hell, the lacrosse player and the Glades guy had both been in-person stalkers, having face-to-face confrontations. This guy only left her things. He didn’t force his presence on her or anything. And she was Felicity Smoak, hacker extraordinaire. She could figure out who this guy was before it escalated.

She’d begun running searches, finding herself on traffic cams and checking to see if any cars turned up more often than not, following her. She didn’t know which florist he used, so she’d hacked every one that had security tapes, hoping to find the person who’d bought the arrangements. But whoever was doing this was good. He hadn’t shown up anywhere on traffic cams or security feeds at any florist she’d been able to look into.

She’d completed these searches every night, trying to play different angles, come up with different ideas for how to find out who this guy was, but she’d had no luck.

Bruce had called her during one of her more frustrated, desperate moments, and had immediately recognized that something was wrong with Felicity. At that moment, she’d been sleep deprived, devoting every hour that she wasn’t at the office or assisting the team in the foundry to the search for her current bad guy, and Bruce had been able to pull the full story out of her. Even in her mental state that night, she knew she wouldn’t have divulged a word to him if she didn’t know that he had his own responsibilities as Batman keeping him tethered safely in Gotham.

After he’d heard the most recent happening, he’d changed the subject to try and help her calm down, talking her down from the budding panic attack. It was during this time that she’d mentioned her plans for Halloween, to go to Verdant dressed as River Song, one of the strongest heroines she knew of. River Song wouldn’t put up with a stalker and dressing up as her gave Felicity the mental confidence boost that she needed to get through this. She’d had no idea that Bruce would actually show up at Verdant or that he would dress as the Eleventh Doctor.

Bruce’s voice grabbed her attention, forcing her eyes from where they’d rested firmly on Oliver Queen’s glorious ass as he’d walked away.

“Oh, Lis. That man has it bad for you, and it’s so entertaining. Why did you tell me he wasn’t interested?”

“Because he isn’t, Bruce. He’s made that crystal clear,” she replied as she rolled her eyes at him.

“Woman, that boy wanted to rip me limb from limb when I said I was your husband. And maybe use some mental bleach at the images I’m sure that conjured in his mind. Not to mention how badly he wanted to know your thoughts on the Green Arrow. Oliver definitely recognizes his competition.”

Keep a straight face, Felicity. Keep a straight face. You can do it.

“He slept with Isabel and then told me he couldn’t be in a relationship with anyone he could really care about.” She had _not_ planned to say that. At all. She hoped he didn’t ask her why he would think that.

Bruce’s expression turned to one of sympathy as he grabbed her hand and tugged her into his arms for a hug. “I know how you took that, Lis. But believe me, that boy is crazy about you. Think about his words, not how they made you feel. Lis, he flat out told you that you are someone he could really care about.” He hugged her a little tighter, before releasing her again.

She had to admit Bruce had a solid point. But, of course Oliver cared about her. They were friends, kind of. Except he really didn’t know that much about her, even less than she knew about him, which was saying something considering he was master of secret keeping. Not only that, but she was helping him achieve his mission. He definitely cared about her. But that didn’t mean romantically.

“I can’t even think about that right now. I’ve got too much else going on in my life to worry about whether my boss might _like me_ , like me.”

“That you do. Which is why I came into town. We’re going to find whoever is stalking you and stop it. Permanently.” There was something strange in Bruce’s tone, but she couldn’t quite place what it was. Determination was there, but it was mixed with something. Almost like guilt. But she quickly brushed that thought aside; Bruce would never actually contribute to her stalking, so guilt made no sense.

“You know I appreciate your caring, but you have life in Gotham to take care of. I’ve got this. You just caught me at a bad time this week. I’ve got it back under control. You don’t need to babysit me.”

“Really? So you’ve found more information about this guy? Do share,” he replied, his skepticism apparent from his tone.

“Okay. Nothing. But I will. And I’m fine. Seriously.”

“You will be. I’m staying with you until this is resolved.”

“Uhh. No. Nuh uh. No way. Not going to happen.” She couldn’t believe he was even suggesting that. Live with her? Absolutely not. Billionaire Bruce Wayne was absolutely not sharing her one-bedroom apartment for the foreseeable future. No matter how much determination she could read in his stance. Let him be stubborn. She was worse.

“Yes, Felicity. I am. I’m here to protect you and keep you safe. You do so much for me and you’re not even on my team full time. I’m not letting this weirdo get you.” He stooped to meet her gaze eye-to-eye, presumably so he could see she was serious. So was she.

“It’s not happening. If you have nowhere to stay tonight, might I suggest booking yourself a room at the Grand? It’s the best hotel here in Starling. I’ll make sure you’re on the next flight out in the morning.”

“I’m going to direct you to our previous conversation regarding me having my own jet,” he remarked, one half of his mouth raised in little smile. “I’m not leaving until I’m satisfied you’re safe, Lis.” Suddenly the smile was gone and his voice turned deathly serious. “You’re a true friend, Felicity. And I don’t have many of those. Any really, besides Alfred and Lucius. And as such, you’re important to me. You’ve kept me safe and helped me on multiple occasions when you are under no obligation to do so. Let me keep you safe, Lis. I need to know you’re okay.”

She couldn’t help it. She launched herself at him, giving him a bear hug. “You’re my friend, too, Bruce. One of the few that I have, too. I appreciate you wanting to ensure my safety, I do. But I value my independence too much to allow you to live with me. Plus, if things get bad enough, I can tell the Arrow and he’ll make sure I’m okay.”

“Okay. I can tell we’ve moved into stressful territory. I will not force you to let me move in. Let’s just enjoy our night.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the dance floor. Then he began flailing his arms around in some attempt at keeping with the beat of the music that fell short. Very, very short.

“Bruce. Stop that,” she gasped through her laughter. “You’re embarrassing yourself.”

“If it gets you to laugh, I don’t care. Come on, Felicity. Dance like an idiot with me.”

“No way. If that’s what you’re expecting, you’re going to have to ply me with tons of alcohol.”

“Done. All the drinks you want are on me tonight.” He pulled her through the crowd up to the bar, ordering her two shots and a cocktail when the bartender came over to them.

He put the two shots in each of her hands, then grabbed the two of his own. “To friendship!” he proclaimed loudly, then clinked his shot glasses against hers, and they both raised their glasses to their lips, knocking back both shots one after the other.

Two hours and a plethora of alcohol later, Bruce and Felicity were dancing like Phoebe and Rachel ran in that one episode of friends. The alcohol content of her blood refusing to allow her to give a damn about anyone seeing, even if she’d occasionally felt Oliver’s eyes on her throughout the night. All of the sudden, she felt her phone vibrate. But not her normal phone that was snugly encased between her breasts. The phone that she’d strapped to the inside of her thigh in preparation for texting Oliver during the night.

She leaned into Bruce. “‘Scuse me, Bruce - I’ll be back. Gotta go to the bathroom to check the phone thing.”

She turned, wobbling slightly and thanking the powers that be that her costume had allowed her to wear flats tonight. Bruce Wayne was a bit of an alcohol pusher, and despite her built-up tolerance from drinking a disturbing amount of wine since college, she was definitely intoxicated.

She made her way to a darkened corner of Verdant. She’d plotted all of the blind spots in the club when she’d signed on to Team Arrow, and she knew that in her current location, Oliver for sure wouldn’t be able to see her from anywhere in the club. Safe, she reached between her legs, extracting the phone from the sheer thigh-high stocking she was wearing to keep it in place.

**1:15 A.M.: I’m at the Verdant party. Are you?**

She giggled at her subterfuge. Yes, drunk Felicity was giggly.

**1:15 A.M.: Maybe.**

**1:15 A.M.: Give me a hint what you’re dressed as. Please? I’ve had a terrible night so far and could use some good news.**

Her heart sunk a little, feeling guilty that he was having a bad time at his own party and she wasn’t even hanging out with him to try and get him into a better mood. Well, she could at least try to brighten it as her anonymous alter ego.

**1:16 A.M.: Fine. Music. That’s ur hint.**

**1:16 A.M.: Music? So you’re dressed as a singer?**

**1:17 A.M.: U asked for ur hint and u got it.**

**1:17 A.M.: Okay. You make a valid point. Thank you. Are you having fun?**

That was so Oliver. Nevermind he was having a horrible time, he still wanted to make sure that everyone else was doing well, even when he wasn’t.

**1:18 A.M.: Well I was until u said ur night wasn’t great.**

**1:18 A.M.: You can make it better. Come say ‘hi.’**

**1:18 A.M.: Did u srsly just type quotation marks in a text?**

**1:18 A.M.: Yes. I know how amusing you find my texting grammar skills.**

She couldn’t help but smile at that, thinking back on all of the times over the last week that she’d teased him for texting with perfect grammar, even though their generation had developed a whole slew of shorthand to make it easier and faster to communicate.

**1:19 A.M.: I think u mean lack of skills.**

**1:19 A.M.: Then come teach me, sensei.**

**1:19 A.M.: Spoilers, sweetie.**

It felt even better to say it dressed as the character she was quoting. 

**1:20 A.M.: Please, you’ll improve my night by a million times.**

**1:20 A.M.: Why’s your night so bad?**

**1:21 A.M.: The woman I’ve fallen for is here with someone else.**

Of course there was another woman. Of freaking course. It was probably Laurel. Gorgeous Laurel. That bitch. Which was totally not even fair of her to think, she didn’t even really know Laurel. She just hated the hold that woman had on Oliver. And how was any other girl supposed to compete with that? Oliver had kept a freaking picture of her for five years on an island.

**1:23 A.M.: Well, she’s crazy then.**

**1:24 A.M.: No. She’s not. She’s fantastic.**

Right. Laurel is fantastic. Tall, brunette, a successful lawyer. The complete opposite of short, blonde, glorified secretary Felicity Smoak. Well, Oliver didn’t know that his anonymous picture girl was the opposite of everything he wanted in a woman.

**1:25 A.M.: Well, maybe this will cheer you up, then.**

Abandoning her plan to wait until later in the night to send it, when Oliver was too drunk to realize that Felicity could see his face and was watching his expression, she opened the pictures on her phone and selected the one Kara had told her to send for Halloween, attaching it to the message and hitting send. It was probably a good thing she was severely inebriated; she would’ve had a very difficult time getting herself to send this particular image to Oliver if she’d been more coherent.

**1:26 A.M.: Happy Halloween.**

She was about to replace the phone under the skirt of her dress, deciding that she’d let Oliver stew with the picture for awhile, when it was suddenly snatched from her hands.

When she spun around, Bruce Wayne was there holding her phone above her head, well out of her reach. Unfortunately for drunk Felicity, she hadn’t locked the damn phone, so Bruce currently had access to its contents.

She could see him scrolling through the messages, and no matter how much she hung on his arm trying to bring it down so she could get her phone back, he was too strong. His arm didn’t budge an inch.

“Holy Batman, Felicity. Are these you?” He looked down at her with eyes wide with shock. Her face felt like it would catch on fire at any second. “Nevermind, I can tell by that wicked blush that they are. Are you sending dirty pics to your boss, Lis?”

“Bruce whatever-your-middle-name-is Wayne. Give me that phone back right this instant,” she tried using her loud voice, but his smile just grew.

“I had no idea you had this in you, Lis. Seriously. Oliver Queen is a lucky man. And good for you - going after exactly what you want. I’m surprised that he’s let his girl spend all night with me though. And I’m not going to lie - I’m a little hurt that you didn’t tell me you and Queen had were seeing each other.” He pouted a little at his last statement,

“Hedoesn’tknowit’sme.” She rushed through the sentence, feeling her face get impossibly hotter.

“Repeat that, please? Slower this time.”

“He. Doesn’t. Know. It’s. Me,” she bit out, forcing each word to leave her lips.

“So you’re sending him anonymous dirty pictures of yourself? That’s even better. And poor Queen doesn’t know his dream girl is sending him half-naked pictures of her in sexy lingerie. This is so good. You definitely have to keep me updated on how this is going.”

“I’m not his dream girl. I just need proof that someone like him could want my body. So many guys just want to use me for my brains. Most of the guys I’ve dated have only wanted me for what I can do for them. And not sexually. I need to feel desirable, to feel wanted for my body. I figured with Oliver, maybe I could prove to myself that I am. Like, his reactions would show me that someone could want my body, not just my mind.”

“Oh, Felicity.” Bruce leaned down and cupped her cheeks between his hands, making her look up at him. “You’re gorgeous. You’re sexy. You’re incredibly ‘bangable’ to use your word from earlier. If guys have made you feel less than that, they’re the ones missing out. You’re one of my best friends and if I weren’t stubbornly in love with someone else, I’d definitely try to hit that.” He winked at her and brushed a few of tears that had escaped her eyes during his speech away from her face.

“I’m too drunk for heart-to-hearts right now. Obviously.” She hugged him. “Thank you for saying that, but you don’t really count. You’re like the lovable, insane, bad influence brother I never had.”

“Whatever you say, Lis. Doesn't change the fact that you’re smoking. Get it? Smoak-ing?” He nudged her arm with his elbow and she couldn’t stop the groan.

“Have you been speaking to my friends from college? Veronica, maybe? I swear to God my friends literally just made the same joke a few weeks ago. In fact, it’s one of their tried-and-true favorites.”

“They sound like good people.” He put his arm around her shoulders, guiding her back out into the throng of clubgoers. Leaning down he spoke into her ear to make sure she could hear him over the throbbing music, “Let’s get you out of here. If you’re so drunk you’re crying about being called attractive, I think you’re done for the night. I’ll drop you off and then head to the Grand.” He began steering her toward the doors of Verdant.

When they were about ten steps from the doors, Oliver intercepted them with Diggle in tow.

“There you are! I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” She must have been even more drunk than she’d originally thought because his voice sounded panicked when she had it on good authority he’d been too wrapped up in lamenting Laurel’s latest lover, her thoughts cut short as she giggled at her alliteration.

Then she realized all of the men were looking at her with amusement in their eyes and she was terrified how much of that she’d actually said out loud.

Diggle gave her a blinding smile. “You just said ‘alliteration is great.’ Nothing else - I promise. Scout’s honor.”

Her brother’s smile was infectious. “You were never a scout. I know. I’ve hacked into your records. All of your records, actually,” she pointed at each man in turn.

Oliver stepped a little closer to her, putting both his hands on her shoulders. “Let’s maybe not say that so loud, okay?” With that he leveled an Arrow stare at Bruce. “You didn’t hear that.”

Bruce just smiled. “Hear what?”

Suddenly, Felicity’s stomach churned. Oh crap. This felt like that one Harry Buffalo party she’d attended at MIT. That night had ended with her hugging the toilet in the bathroom of the frat house. Definitely not one of her fondest memories. She still had nightmares about the bacteria she’d exposed herself to that night. She lurched forward, pulling herself out of Oliver’s grip. “Need to leave now.”/p>

From somewhere behind her, she heard Bruce explaining, “I was just taking her home before I headed to my hotel. She’s definitely had enough --” Anything else he said was cut short as she burst through the doors into the biting cold air. She instantly felt better.

She came to a halt on the sidewalk outside of Verdant, waiting for Bruce to finish up and come take her home, when Digg appeared in front of her.”

“You all right short stack? You don’t look so great.” His eyes full of concern as he looked down at her. “In fact, you look like you’ve been crying a bit.” Immediately his eyes flashed from concern to anger. “Do I need to teach Bruce Wayne not to mess with my girl?”

He made to move around her, but she caught his bicep and he let her stop him.

“No, Digg. He didn’t do anything, I promise. Just had an emotional conversation. He’s a friend. That’s all.”

“If you’re sure.” He still looked like he was itching to hit Bruce for his perceived slight to Felicity.

“I’m sure. I’d let you beat him if he’d done something wrong. And for what it’s worth, I totally think you’d win.” She stepped closer to him, accepting the comforting hug he gave her.

“Against an Ollie clone without the island training? I think that’s a safe bet.” He released her from his arms, reaching into his pocket to pull out a clean handkerchief. “Now, let’s get you back to looking perfect, okay?” He began to wipe the smudged mascara from beneath her eyes. “There. All better.”

“What would I do without you, Digg? I never want to find out.”

“You won’t, Felicity. I’m here for you.”

“What if he gets me, John?”

“He won’t. We’ve beaten one together before, we’ll do it again. I do think you should clue Oliver in, though.” He brushed some of her wayward curls back above her eyes.

She’d been about to open her mouth and say that she’d talked to Batman and he was hell-bent on keeping her safe, too, but before the sounds escaped her mouth, she was word-blocked by Oliver.

“Tell Oliver what?” He walked up to his two partners, Bruce Wayne traveling slightly behind him. Oliver was still dressed in his Batman costume, but he must have left the helmet somewhere inside. He looked between the two, then sighed when he realized neither was going to come forward. “Okay, Felicity. I’m going to take you home. Do you have everything you need?”

Her eyebrows furrowed as she looked behind Oliver to Bruce. “I thought I was going with you?”

Bruce gave her a gentle smile. “Oliver here reminded me that it would be out of my way to drop you off then head to the hotel, so he kindly offered to go out of his way to take you home before heading back to the Queen mansion.” His words dripped with irony and amusement.

Felicity shrugged. “Okay. ‘Night, B.”

“Goodnight, Lis. We’ll talk tomorrow. Take some aspirin and drink some water when you get home.” He stepped towards her, but Oliver moved to block his path, not very subtly.

“I’ll make sure she does. Goodnight, Bruce.” It was a clear dismissal, even Drunk Felicity recognized that.

She raised her eyes to meet Bruce’s from behind Oliver’s shoulder to find her friend looking at her with a knowing smile and a raised eyebrow. The look was every bit the “I told you so,” that he couldn’t say out loud.

Suddenly, Bruce was gone, and Oliver was tossing keys to Digg with instructions for him to bring the car around, then stay and lock up the club after the partiers were gone. The emphasis on club made it clear that he meant for Digg to check on the foundry to ensure nothing critical had occurred before heading home for the night.

Then it was Oliver and Felicity standing on a dimly lit curb, alone together.

She took a step forward, wobbling, and Oliver’s arm came immediately around her back, gripping her under both of her arms, making sure she kept upright.

His arms were so strong. And the piece of his chest that was pressed against her side was warm and hard. She’d never felt safer. Or more turned on, truthfully, as the warmth of his body seeped into hers, pushing back of some the chill that had settled since she’d headed outside. The thought crossed her mind that he shouldn’t waste that strength keeping her standing, but should carry her instead.

Blue met blue and Oliver gave her an achingly soft smile, opening his mouth to say something just as Diggle pulled the car up in front of them.

He kept his arm wrapped firmly around her as he led her to the car. Diggle exited the driver’s seat, heading around to open the passenger side door for them. Oliver helped her into the car, ensuring that her legs were fully inside, then leaned over her. His scent filled her nose, all spicy and woodsy with a hint of leather mixed-in, and she felt a rush of warmth to her core. Even the man’s smell was sexy, how unfair was that?

“You smell nice, too, Felicity.” He quirked an eyebrow at her in amusement as he reached for her seatbelt. He pulled it around her, clinking it into place at her hip. His hand lingered where it was as he turned to look her in the eyes. “You okay?”

She nodded furiously, never tearing her eyes from his, not trusting her mouth to not embarrass her.

“You sure?”

Apparently a nod of her head wasn’t a good enough affirmation for him. A quick verbal response should be safe enough, right? “Yep,” she popped the ‘p.’ “Just drunk.” Another giggle escaped her. “Very drunk.”

His hand reached up and smoothed a curl back down by her face, giving her a soft smile. “I can see that. Let’s get you home, okay?”

“ ‘Kay, Ol’ver.”

* * *

Oh yeah, Felicity was definitely drunk. If he hadn’t been able to tell before, that last slurred sentence would’ve solidified it.

He pulled the seatbelt tight, ensuring that it was snug around her, then softly shut the door before making his way to the driver’s side and slipping in behind the wheel of the Porsche.

“ ‘S no fair you can move like that,” she proclaimed as he depressed the clutch and turned the engine over. “Seriously. All your moves are so good. Sliding into cars. Check.” She made a little swoosh in the air with her finger. “Sparring with John. Check.” Another finger swoosh. “The salmon ladder. Check. Sex. Check.” She paused after the swoosh, presumably allowing her brain to catch up. “Not that I’ve experienced that one. I just assume based on the other ones. And the tabloids. And the seeing you shirtless.”

She buried her face into her hands, mumbling to herself without realizing this, too, was out loud. “The plan was to keep your mouth _shut_ , Felicity. You know we can’t be trusted to speak when we’ve had this much alcohol. Especially around men as perfect as him.”

Oliver couldn’t contain the silly grin on his face. Felicity was too perfect, and his ego was getting a nice stroke tonight because of her drunken inability to filter her thoughts. Hearing her speaking about him in what she thought was her head, even drunk as she was, was so much more meaningful than just knowing that she had feelings for him. He hoped she never developed a fully-functional brain-to-mouth filter. These glimpses inside of her mind were too precious to him.

He let his eyes slide over to where she was sitting. Her head now resting against the window, her cheeks flushed, whether from embarrassment or the alcohol he couldn’t be sure. She actually had her hand clasped to her mouth to prevent herself from speaking anymore. Absolutely adorable. His heart actually ached with how incredible this woman was. Everything she did just pushed him closer and closer to the edge of falling (if he hadn’t already).

He kept stealing glances at her as he made his way back to her apartment, so he noticed almost immediately when she fell asleep. First her hands fell from her mouth into her lap, then she turned her body, letting her head fall into the space between the seat and the window, cradled by the seatbelt. Her face went slack, her mouth slightly opened. He had a hard time tearing his eyes away from her parted lips. The only thing he hated about her costume was the fact that her lips weren’t painted in their typical bright colors; she’d opted instead for a nude color, and he found he missed the kissable pink pout. She also wasn’t wearing her glasses, so two things, actually.

There was an open spot by the front of her building, and he thanked his good luck, maneuvering the Porsche into position.

He leaned over the center console reaching for her. He brushed a knuckle down the soft skin of her arm, gently coaxing her into consciousness. “Felicity. Felicity. Wake up, we're at your place.” 

“Huh? Ol’ver?”

“Yeah, it’s me. Let’s get you upstairs, okay? Just move away from the door so you don’t fall out when I open it.” Her brow furrowed in concentration and she pushed her shoulders away from the door, moving her body so she was fully on the seat again, letting out a huff at at the energy she had to expend to complete the movement, like shifting five inches in one direction was a horrible thing to ask.

With her no longer laying against it, Oliver made his way to the passenger-side and pulled the door open. Her eyes were closed again. He couldn’t help shaking his head amusedly at tired Felicity, remembering the times he’d had to attempt to wake Thea after a car ride in the past and how her body had adamantly refused to cooperate, much like Felicity’s now.

His fingers removed a curl from her forehead before he even had a second to realize his arm had moved. “Come on, sleepy. We need to get you inside.”

“Don’ wanna. Comfy here.” She scrunched her eyes together and burrowed down further into the seat.

“Your bed is much more comfy.”

She snorted. “That sounds like something I’d say.” Then her eyes popped open, suddenly more alert. “An’ how’d you know how my bed feels? You haven’ been inside it. I’d rememember.. remmember..” she took a breath and he could visibly see her attempting to focus her mouth into compliance. “Re-mem-ber that. Too many Ms…” she giggled. “And probably Os, too, if you were in my bed.” It was a testament to how drunk she was that her face didn’t immediately light up in red. He found himself hating Bruce Wayne even more for getting her so drunk that he was deprived of seeing that gorgeous blush on her cheeks.

Grumbling to himself about the many ways to dismember the man, he unbuckled her seatbelt, then wrapped his arm around her shoulders, jostling her closer to him, and easing her out of the car.

“Nooo,” Felicity whined as he helped her stand outside. “But the car smelled like you.” Then she snuggled deeper into him, causing his heart to clench. “Oh. You smell like you, too. Tha’s okay then.”

He was holding her up underneath her shoulders as she stumbled toward her building, making sure she didn’t fall hobbling up the steps. Out of nowhere, he heard Felicity’s proclamation, “I wanna be cuffed.” 

Oliver choked. Completely and totally choked. On nothing but his incredulity.

His silence must have made her nervous because she opened her mouth and made it exponentially worse.. or better. “I jus’ mean.. When we talked ‘bout handcuffs earlier? I think I’d want to be th’ one wearing ‘em.”

“What?” His voice came out gruff, probably two octaves below where he normally spoke. It almost sounded like he was using his voice modulator.

“Bein’ tied up sounds better than bein’ th’ one doin’ the tying, you know? I don’ even know how to tie things. I had to wear velcro shoes through eighth grade. But you prob’ly know how to tie stuff. That seems like it would be an island-y skill.”

He did. He absolutely knew how to tie things. He was damn good with knots. And now he desperately wanted to show her. If he’d thought his earlier fantasy about her handcuffing him to a chair was spank-bank gold, the idea of having Felicity tied up at his mercy had him drooling.

He’d been too quiet again, caught in his day dream. “It doesn’ hav’ to be cuffs, though. I think I read a book my mom sent me where they used ties. You have lots of ties, Ol’ver. So many.” 

There was nothing he could say to that which wouldn’t get him in trouble later on. If she remembered. Which at this point seemed unlikely. Even still, he kept his mouth shut as they cleared the next twenty or so feet.

Making it to the front door of her building, he couldn’t stop himself from chuckling at their reflection: Batman escorting a badass blonde back home. Apparently it caught Felicity’s eye, too, because she immediately forgot who she was with. “Ba’man? When did you get here? Shhh - you can’t tell the Arrow about our nights together. You wouldn’t like him when he’s angry.” Her giggle made a reappearance. “It’s funny because he wears green.”

Oliver felt like someone had ripped the carpet out from under him. Felicity knew Batman? She spent _nights_ with Batman? What did that even mean? And when? She was never missing from the lair. He felt his jealousy cool a bit, his rational argument taking hold. He was right, she’d never really missed a night in the foundry at all, definitely not enough time to visit Gotham, so at least she wasn’t sleeping with him, so it could only be that she helped him occasionally.

It should probably disturb him more that he cared more about whether she was sleeping with a different vigilante than whether she was distracted on their nightly patrols by helping someone else, but the truth was he only felt relief at the knowledge, and he couldn’t deny that from himself any longer.

Temper under control, he looked down at the woman in his arms just as she turned her head up to his, her eyes widening when she met his gaze. “You’re not Batman. I know him and you’re not him.” She tilted her head in a way that could not be comfortable, but in her drunken state she didn’t seem to mind. “You’re in the wrong suit. You look good in a suit, by the way. I mean the GRRR one,” she made claw hands by her face. “Well, both kinds really. But the Arrow one especially. I’ve had dreams about being tied up by the Arrow. Don’t tell yourself I said that, though.”

He needed her to stop before he did something they’d both regret. He would not let his first kiss with Felicity be one she was too drunk to remember, or enjoy, thoroughly. “Felicity. I need you to stop talking.”

The sound of her lips snapping shut was audible. He regretted his sharp tone instantly. He never wanted Felicity to believe he felt anything other than adoration for her mouth, but he couldn’t listen to her talking about him tying her up, however innocently or completely dirty she’d meant it.

She’d wordlessly handed him her keys, and he’d maneuvered them through the front door, up the stairs, and through her apartment door without her speaking another word. At least he’d been able to keep her close to him; she’d definitely required help up those stairs. He needed to do something to stop the freeze out, but he was at a loss. “Fel-i-city. You’re drunk, an-”

“I’m not drunk. You’re just blurry,” she interrupted him, her squinting eyes trailing over his face. Something in her head must have clicked because a scared expression took over her face. “Oh no! Did I lose my glasses?” she asked, smacking herself in the face, ostensibly to check for the frames usually perched on her nose. The smack sounded like it hurt.

He quickly grabbed her hands away from her face so she couldn’t hurt herself again. “Oh baby, no. You wore contacts. Don’t hit yourself.” He steered them down the hall towards what he assumed was her bedroom. Suddenly, Felicity stopped dead in her tracks.

“No! We can’t go to bed. Gotta take my contacts out.” 

He carefully untangled his arms from around her, hesitating near her to make sure she could stand and walk on her own. When she took a few wobbly steps toward her bedroom and then appeared to gain some stability, he decided letting her do that on her own was probably safe. At least for the few minutes it would take him to get her a glass of water and find some aspirin for her.

He was rummaging around in her medicine cabinet when she returned to the living area, arms piled high with blankets and pillows. A smile took over his face when he noticed the familiar glasses back in their place on top of her nose.

“Felicity?” He gave her a questioning look to the bedding in her hands.

“It’s going to be a couch night, Oliver.” She said it so seriously like he would know exactly what that meant.

“A couch night?”

She nodded. “The stairs and the contacts removal woke me up too much. I’ll never get to sleep now, and I don’t have a TV in my bedroom. So - couch night.”

He was pleased that there had been significantly less slurring in that little speech than when she’d spoken before, so she was probably sobering up. Still, he wasn’t about to leave her alone tonight, just in case. He’d never seen her that drunk before, and he would be damned if he left her to potentially throw up all alone in her apartment.

“Sounds fun. Couch night it is.” He handed her the glass of water in the biggest cup he’d been able to find in her apartment. “Drink this while I find us something to watch.”

“Us?” Her voice was small, uncertain.

“Yes, Felicity. I’m sticking around tonight.” He turned from her, not giving her any time to argue the point, and began searching through her Blu-Ray collection for something they would both enjoy. His eyes lit on one title and he grabbed it out of its alphabetized spot. “How does Robin Hood: Men In Tights sound?” he questioned her with a big, goofy grin on his face. An archer dressed in green? He loved the irony. And maybe he didn’t hate the idea of her falling asleep with that image in her mind, either.

“Perfect, actually,” she responded, setting the glass down on her coffee table. He gave her a fake glare, noting that the glass was still over halfway full.

“Nuh uh. The whole thing, please.”

She scowled back at him, attempting to hide the small, pleased smile that was on her lips, but her inebriated state gave her away. He pointed to the glass, then to her, and waited. She picked it back up, stuck her tongue out at him, and proceeded to continue drinking.

Happy that she hadn’t put up too much of a fight, Oliver turned back to the TV, putting the Blu-Ray disc into the player and turning it on. “Okay - I’m going to go grab my change of clothes from the trunk of the car so that I’m not Batman all night. I’ll be back and changed before the previews are over if you just let them play. Deal?”

Instead of answering him verbally, she gave him a thumbs up while she kept her mouth attached to the glass, gulping down the remaining water. He grabbed his keys from where he’d thrown them on the table near her door and sprinted down to the Porsche, returning in under three minutes with his overnight bag. Luckily it had a pair of sweats and a t-shirt that would be more than acceptable for spending the night.

He headed to the guest bathroom off of the kitchen and made quick work of changing out of the Batman costume. From there, he could hear the trumpet fanfare starting, signalling the beginning of the movie. Hurrying out of the bathroom, he made it back to the living room to see Felicity sitting on her couch, her small frame dwarfed by a mound of blankets. He sat down next to her on the couch, grabbing the blankets she’d left out for him and huddling himself into them.

Within twenty minutes, Felicity’s head was on his shoulder, her eyes barely staying open. Knowing she was pretty out of it between the alcohol and the tiredness, he allowed himself to press his cheek against the crown of her head. He turned his face into her wild curls, inhaling deep, catching the fruity, citrusy scent that lightly covered her. He couldn’t tell whether it was her shampoo or her body wash, but it was incredible nonetheless. He put his arm around her shoulder, snuggling her closer to his body. He had to enjoy it while he could, since he knew this was something that was unlikely to ever happen again between them. He was still the Arrow and she was too important to risk.

“Purple petals… smell… searching still… no sleeping,” Felicity mumbled incoherently, her body relaxing, indicating she’d finally drifted completely off. With the slackening of her muscles, her head slid down the front of his chest and into his lap. Her body curled up from there, making herself comfortable with his thigh as a pillow.

He remembered how tired and stressed she’d looked lately, and he knew there was no way he’d chance making any kind of movement that would disturb her sleep. He ran his fingers lightly through her hair, then pulled a blanket back over her shoulders from where it had fallen off. He pressed his fingers to his lips, then touched them gently to her forehead. “Goodnight, Felicity. I’ve got you.”

Half an hour after that, Oliver drifted off as well, his head thrown back against the pillows of Felicity’s couch, the girl’s head still resting in his lap. His dreams were filled with a tiny, blonde genius wearing fishnet stockings and black leather gloves tied to his bedpost while he did unspeakable things to her body.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, it looks like Bruce is going to be in town for a bit. I wonder how Oliver will take that. And Bruce _knows_! 
> 
> Things are going to start moving faster from here on, now that everybody's in the same city.
> 
> Don't forget to check out the [Pinterest Board](http://www.pinterest.com/thebookjump1732/picture-perfect) to see the Happy Halloween picture.
> 
> And visit me on [Tumblr](http://thebookjumper.tumblr.com) and ask to be tagged so you get all the Sneak Peeks and Updates your heart desires.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone!
> 
> Here's the latest installment of Picture Perfect. It's starting to pick up a bit, and the momentum will continue moving forward.
> 
> Let me know what you think!
> 
> Thanks to everyone who reads, leaves kudos, and comments. You are all amazing.
> 
> Special thanks to @missyriver - my fantastic beta!

# Picture Perfect

### Chapter 14

Oliver woke up because of the warmth. He wasn’t just warm, he was suffocatingly hot and drenched in sweat. 

He tried to sit up, hoping to remove the blanket he was under to bring his temperature down, but the blanket was too heavy, he was trapped underneath it. He clawed at the material in frustration and only then did he realize the problem: he wasn’t covered in just _one_ blanket, he was covered in at least _five_ of them. No wonder he was soaked through his shirt and sweatpants.

Instead of trying to sit up again, he tugged the blankets up and over his head, breathing in relief at the instant cooling effect that freedom from his quilted prison afforded him.

He tried to sit up then, but something heavy was still on his legs, making the move difficult. Propping himself up with his elbows, he located the culprit. Felicity was laying with her head on his thighs and her upper body pinning down his shins, her legs thrown over the arm of the couch, contorting her body in a way that couldn’t have been comfortable considering she was on her side, her cheek against his thigh, arms wrapped around his legs, while her legs and feet were right-side-up dangling over the couch. Seriously, how could she even get into that position? His back ached just to look at her.

He shifted his legs underneath her, hoping that he might dislodge her or at least jostle her enough that she’d move on her own, but she didn’t. Instead, she nuzzled into his thighs and tightened her grip, holding his legs like they were her own personal teddy bear. And he absolutely meant the word nuzzled. His morning wood grew as her face burrowed down into the space between his legs, and _that_ was definitely going to be a problem. He had to extract himself before she woke up and saw clear as day how much he desired her.

At least he had upper body strength. He had no clue what he would’ve done without it. Using his arms, he was able to pull his entire body straight back, his legs slowly removing themselves from where her arms had held them hostage until just the ends of his shins and his ankles and feet were underneath her. 

Finally free, he paused to see if his movements woke his sleeping beauty. _Ugh_ , now he even sounded like a complete sap in his own head. He blamed Thea and all of the Disney Princess movies he was subjected to because of her mere existence. (And he definitely wasn’t thinking about the times he had rewatched them with her of his own volition, at a time not so far in the past that he felt comfortable admitting it.) Luckily, Felicity appeared to be dead to the world. Whether she was always a heavy sleeper or it was due to her hangover he wasn’t sure, but he was thankful for it today nonetheless.

He quickly pulled the rest of his legs out and held his breath. He watched as a frown took over her face, a line forming between her brows. She let out a groan, burying her head into the cushion, followed by a soft “owww” as the movement must have triggered the pain of her hangover.

A chuckle escaped him. Even in a completely hungover state she was adorable.

At the sound of his laughter, her head shot up followed by a “Oh, _fuck_.” That was a word he didn’t hear leaving her mouth often. Usually she was “frak this” and “frak that.” Hearing the word ‘fuck’ out of her mouth was not helping his situation.

“Oliver? Why.. What are you doing here?” she whisper-questioned him, finally sitting up.

“I brought you home from the Halloween party last night.” Then he asked the burning question,”How much of last night do you actually remember, Felicity?” His mind replayed her saying she’d like to be tied up; he needed to know whether she remembered everything she’d told him, but he didn’t know why it felt so important. _Maybe because you want to know if she meant it when she said she’d had bondage fantasies starring the Arrow_ , his mind answered him, already making plans to make that particular dream of hers come true.

“Ummm… I remember Bruce showed up and we drank a lot and danced a lot.” Her face turned bright red and he wanted to delve into her mind and see what she was thinking or remembering. “I vaguely remember him offering to drive me home.”

Did the blushing mean that she planned to _go home_ with Bruce? Had she planned to ask Bruce to stay the night? He’d figured that was what Bruce wanted last night, but had Felicity wanted it, too?

If so, he was ecstatic that he’d interrupted that plan. He couldn’t bear the thought of Felicity with another man, no matter how selfish that made him. He knew it was reminiscent of his former douchey self, but when it came to Felicity Smoak, he was very much of the opinion that he didn’t deserve her, couldn’t have her, but no one else could either. Something about her brought to the surface his inner five-year-old self who had begged his mom to buy all the kids in kindergarten their own toys so he wouldn’t have to share his.

“Yeah, Digg and I saw you two head outside. You were pretty drunk, and I didn’t feel comfortable with letting you leave with anyone else in that state.”

She gave him a small smile, “That’s very sweet of you, Oliver. Thanks for looking out for me.”

“I always will.”

He saw her eyes widen a fraction and her pupils dilate in reaction to the conviction in his tone before she looked away. He didn’t say anything else, letting his declaration stand, letting her process whatever she needed to for her to understand the truth behind his words. After a few heartbeats, she shook her head like she was trying to clear it of her thoughts.

“And I’ll always thank you for it.” A minute of silence passed between them, but it was a comfortable sort of silence. The kind of silence where no one felt the need to break it, where they could just appreciate the understanding of how much they meant to one another.

Then Felicity spoke again. “Okay. I’m going to go shower because I think that might make me feel more human.”

He watched as she stretched her body out, unable to tear his eyes away from where the tank top she’d changed into last night rode up and exposed a few inches of her bare midriff. When she finally stood, the tank top fell back into place, and he was able to finally look elsewhere. She started walking towards the back room when suddenly she gasped and whirled on him.

“Oh my God. True or false - I nuzzled your legs this morning.” 

“Tr--” he choked a little at the too-recent memory. Clearing his throat, he was able to get out the word, “True.”

“Oh God.” Her eyes pinched shut in embarrassment as her face grew redder. Then she peeked one eye open at him as she asked in a quieter voice, “True or false - we discussed handcuffs last night.”

“Yeah, that one’s true, too,” he confirmed.

She let out a little whimper and clenched her eyes tighter together. He wanted to take her in his arms and tell her that it was okay, that she had no reason to be embarrassed. And maybe that he’d gladly help her live out that fantasy.

“So, I’m just going to go drown myself in the shower now.” She pivoted on her foot and started for the hallway again. He jumped up and had her by the arm, spinning her around, before she’d even taken three steps.

“Oh no you don’t. I answered yours, now you answer mine.” He waited until she nodded in acquiescence. “True or false - you invited Bruce to the party last night.”

At that, her eyes narrowed in anger at him. “No! I told you what happened last night. I only told him that I was going to a party at Verdant dressed as River Song. I had no idea that he was going to show up. What - didn’t believe me?”

“I did. I just wanted to check. Next question: True or false - you’d like to be the one wearing the handcuffs,” he knew it was ungentlemanly, but her answer had the power to feed his spank bank for another five years on Lian Yu and he couldn’t resist.

To his surprise, her face didn’t get red at his question. Instead, she straightened her shoulders and leveled her eyes on him. “True. With someone I trusted, absolutely.”

Oliver was pretty sure he looked like a fish out of water with the way his mouth was gaping open. With that point, she turned around again.

“Wait!”

He saw her shoulders slump with her sigh as she turned back to face him again. “What now?”

“True or false - you know Batman.”

She visibly tensed. “Uh. I’m in desperate need of that shower now, so I’m just gonna --” She made a motion with her thumb indicating she was going to leave.

He growled out, “Fe-li-ci-ty. Answer the question.”

She scrunched up her nose, the freckles collapsing in on one another. “Fine. Yes, Oliver. I know Batman.”

“True or false - you know who he is.”

“True.”

He waited. Finally she opened her eyes to see him looking at her expectantly.

“Oh no. Nope. I’m not telling you who he is. He doesn’t know who you are and you don’t get to know who he is. I’d never betray your trust, Oliver Queen, and I won’t betray his.”

“So you admit it’s a he.”

At that she rolled her eyes, an amused smile ticking up the side of her face. “Oh, please. He’s got a cup piece as part of his armor. Of course he’s a he.”

“Do you work for him?” It shouldn’t matter. He knew whatever her answer was shouldn’t matter. But he wanted it to be no. He wanted her to say that what they did together was special and she wouldn’t do that with anyone else.

“No. I occasionally work _with_ him, like I work _with_ you. Neither of you are my boss.” Even though it wasn’t the answer he wanted to hear, he couldn’t help but raise his eyebrow in amusement at her at that last statement. “Okay, fine. Yes, you’re my boss, but you’re my boss at work, not my boss at night. And by boss at night, I mean, like with the Arrowing stuff, not like bossing me around in bed at night. Like the kind involving handcuffs.” She glared at him again. “Why would you bring up handcuffs around me again? Did you really think that I would be able to keep my mouth shut? Especially after last night? God, Oliver. Think before you say things.”

Oliver held his hands up in a gesture of surrender. “You were saying you occasionally work with Batman, but how? You’re never in Gotham, Felicity. You’re always here with me.”

She shrugged, looking slightly sheepish. “I meant it when I said occasionally. Every once and a while they run into something they can’t handle on their own, and then I get a call.”

“Wait - _they_? Batman has a team?”

“Yep. Just like you. Well, not exactly like you considering who all you have on your team. But I guess you share me.”

An irrational degree of anger ripped through Oliver at her words. Share her? _Share her_? Oliver had never shared well. And the thought of sharing Felicity with anyone was abhorrent to him.

Felicity must have seen the look on his face and interpreted it correctly because the next words out of her mouth were, “Don’t be mad at me. Please. They need help and I can provide it. Anyway.. I’m going to go shower now.” And before he could get another word in, she was gone.

Her previous words still rang through his mind. She thought she was just some resource to him, just like Digg had said. He thought he’d been better lately at trying to show her that she meant more to him than that. That she was more than just a brain that housed skills he needed. But obviously he had not done a good enough job. He needed to do more.

Scribbling a quick note for her in case she finished her shower in his absence, he located her keys by the table near the door and let himself out, making sure to lock the door behind him. He double-checked that it was locked, twisting the door handle and pushing. There was no way he was leaving her without knowing for sure that she was safe inside. He couldn’t lose her, and since she wouldn’t tell him what had her so on edge, the only thing he could do to protect her right now was make sure her door was locked.

He walked the few blocks to the grocery store he knew was nearby her place. He hadn’t even bothered to check the fridge, knowing all he would find was heat-and-eat meals and coffee creamer. He’d heard her talk about food enough that he was well-aware she had the most unhealthy diet of anyone he’d ever known, including Thea, and Thea used to eat frosting from a can with a spoon. At least today he would make sure she got some real food.

He grabbed a carton of eggs, some cherry tomatoes, spinach, shredded cheese, and some bacon. The grease was going to be a necessity this morning, considering the massive hangover she was bound to have. He also picked up a loaf of bread, grabbing butter and jelly to go with it since he couldn’t even be sure she had butter in her fridge. A carton of orange juice was next. The last thing to go in the basket was a toothbrush and a travel-sized toothpaste.

As he made his way to the checkout counter, he passed by a small flower section in the grocery store. He impulsively grabbed a single, yellow rose that reminded him of her hair, hoping she wouldn’t read too much into it, but unable to stop himself from making the gesture.

When he opened the door to Felicity’s apartment, he was hit with the smell of coffee. Felicity must have realized that she hadn’t started a pot before she went to shower and come back out to rectify that issue. He hoped she found his note instead of thinking he’d left after their talk. He could hear water running from somewhere in the back of the apartment, so Felicity hadn’t finished her shower yet. 

That realization stopped him dead in his tracks. Felicity was in the shower. Felicity was naked in the same apartment he was in. Holy crap. Felicity was wet _and naked_ less than fifty feet from where he currently stood.

He’d actually taken a few steps in her direction before he realized what he was doing. He couldn’t just go interrupt her shower, no matter how much he wanted to. And he absolutely wanted to. It was all he could think about right now. He’d strip off his clothes before entering the bathroom, using his stealth skills to open the door without making a sound. He’d slip in behind her, turn her around, press her against the tiled wall and devour her. Feel his skin slide against hers, no friction between them thanks to the water. Maybe he’d sink to his knees and get a taste of her. Or maybe she’d want to taste him instead.

The sound of her dropping something in the shower was the only thing that brought him out of his stupor. 

When he came back around, his arms were still full of bags of groceries. Shaking his head at his actions, he set everything on the counter and began the hunt for pots and pans. She had exactly two. And they were both skillets from a mismatched set. Seeing that, he realized he’d just have to consider himself lucky that she had a toaster oven. He could just hear her now: _of course_ she had a toaster oven. How else would one make a frozen pizza if not for a toaster oven?

He quickly brushed his teeth over the kitchen sink, unwilling to face Felicity with morning breath when she was all fresh and clean, then he got to work on the food.

He started by frying up the bacon, and when he heard the shower go off, he started on the omelettes and put the toast in the toaster oven He wasn’t a fantastic cook by any stretch of the imagination, but the few lessons Raisa had given him before he left for college had provided him with the basics, and he’d honed the art of the omelette over many years of attempting to impress his conquests the morning after.There may have been a few drunken omelettes for himself and Tommy over the years, too.

When the alarm went off signalling that the coffee had brewed, he couldn’t help but be impressed that it perfectly coincided with her opening of the door and coming back out into the living area. Although he supposed he shouldn’t be surprised that Felicity had paired her morning routine down to the exact amount of time it took her coffee maker to have a pot ready. He had first-hand knowledge of how much this woman loved her caffeine fix in the morning.

She padded into the kitchen on bare feet, not even acknowledging that he was present. Or that he had made food. She grabbed a mug out of her cabinet and filled it with coffee. She held the pot in her hand while she took a few gulps of the aromatic liquid. Then she refilled the mug, replacing the amount she’d consumed before she set it back down on its stand. He watched in fascination as she carried the mug to the refrigerator and she poured in some creamer. It was like she wouldn’t dare be parted from her coffee.

Then she stood in the center of the kitchen and proceeded drain the mug, then repeated the whole process.

It was when she was going for her third cup that Oliver stepped in.

“Okay there,” he grabbed the mug from her hands, ignoring the scowl he received for his efforts. “I think you’ve had enough for now. I know you’re hungover and you’re, obviously, craving coffee, but let’s get something in your stomach, too, okay?”

The glare transformed into awe right before his eyes. “You cooked for me?” she questioned, eyeing the pans he’d used. Then she gave him a critical side-eye. “With what ingredients?”

“I ran to the store and picked some up while you were in the shower. I promise I did not use anything that was in your fridge; I have no desire to get food poisoning.” The glare made a resurgence. “Didn’t you see my note?”

“Well, yes. But it just said, ‘Went out. Don’t worry, O.’ I thought you just wanted me to know that you left of your own volition and weren’t kidnapped or something.”

“You’re right. I should’ve been more specific.”

“Uh, ya think?”

“I’ll provide more details next time, I promise.” Next time? Did he just say there’d be a next time for him leaving her to pick up ingredients for breakfast? From her wide eyes, she’d caught that, too. He had to deflect. “Now go sit, and I’ll bring over your food. Your stomach needs it.”

She complied with no fight which told him more about how she was feeling than any other cue he could pick up from her behavior or the tired circles under her eyes. If Felicity Smoak was taking orders without putting up resistence, it meant she felt a thousand times worse than what she was letting on.

He hurried up and plated their food, then hurried up and met her at her four-person dining room table, setting a plate in front of her and one in front of the seat across from her for himself.

She wasted no time, digging right into the omelette. The moan she let out while she had her lips wrapped around her fork was downright sinful, and the baggy sweatpants and tight tank top she’d put on after her shower only aided him in his dirty thoughts. The tank top clung to every curve and he could tell that she had no bra on, owing to the two stiff peaks that were poking up from under the fabric. She really must have believed he’d left the apartment for good because he knew there was no way she would have come out without a bra on if she’d known he’d be here. And the gray sweatpants she was sporting were tantalizing, too, because he knew how easy it would be to stretch the band away from her hips, giving him more than enough room to get his hand right where he wanted it.

“You going to eat?”

He needed to get in better control of his fantasies around her or she was going to start to worry that he was going crazy.

“Yeah - sorry. Just thinking about things,” he replied, shoveling a forkful of food into his mouth. Not too shabby of a breakfast if Felicity’s completely clean plate was any indication.

A few minutes later, they’d both finished and she picked up ther plates with a “Thank you for feeding me, Oliver. Everything of yours is delicious. _Was_. Was delicious. And I meant food. Not anything else of yours.” Holding her hand up, she stopped him from saying anything. “We’re forgetting that happened. I’m too hungover to try and talk myself out of that one. You go relax - I’ll clean up really quick.”

After she shot down the argument he’d tried to give her as to why he should do the dishes, he made his way over to the couch. He’d only just sat down when a loud crash echoing from the kitchen had him jumping up to check on her.

He found her trembling from head to toe in the kitchen staring at the yellow rose he’d bought for her and left on the kitchen counter. His heart dropped thinking that she’d figured out the feelings he’d been trying to hide from her for months, her reaction to the flower he’d bought for her couldn’t make it more clear to him that she didn’t want this. The longing he saw in her eyes as she watched him must have been only about how good he looked, not about who he was as a person. Who could want a relationship with a murderer? Maybe that’s what had her so afraid. How do you turn down dating a guy who’s killed people. Oh, God, was she afraid of him? The very idea made him want to puke.

She must have heard his footsteps coming up behind her because she spun around and met his distraught gaze with terror apparent in her eyes. If she was actually afraid of him, Oliver knew she wouldn’t let him see this intense moment of vulnerability. She’d tried hide it from him rather than wearing it opening. And, he reasoned with himself, it wasn’t like he’d ever inspired fear in her. She knew who he was, what he was capable of, and she’d never backed down from him. Not even when he brought out his Arrow intimidation voice. He’d made billionaires and mob men cower in fear, but this five foot five inch perky blonde just stood up and gave it right back. No, this wasn’t about him, it was about something else that had her frightened. “You okay?”

She clasped her arms around herself and began nodding at his question.

“You don’t look it. Tell me what’s going on,” he implored her. He had a feeling that whatever this reaction was, it involved the secret that she was keeping from him.

He watched her pull herself together. “I have it under control, Oliver.”

At least she didn’t deny that something was going on this time. Even still, he couldn’t help the ire injected into his voice, “You don’t, though.” He tried to get his anger under control, knowing it wouldn’t get him anywhere with her. “Felicity - you’re obviously terrified. You said you’d talk to me. _Please_.”

Apparently he hadn’t hidden his anger well enough because she bit back, “Or you could just trust me to handle it.”

And that was the end of rational Oliver Queen.

“NO! How can I trust you, Felicity? You’re keeping secrets from me!” he shouted back at her.

He was met with her own loud voice in return. “Oh yes, because you’ve been _so_ forthcoming about your time on the ‘island,’” she threw air quotes around the word island. She couldn’t know. Could she? No one knew. But Felicity routinely knew things that no one else knew. It was kind of her job in the lair.

But Oliver couldn’t dwell on that right now. He was too angry and bringing up the island was a low blow. To try to avoid blowing this up any more, Oliver carefully controlled his voice. “My time away isn’t something I want to revisit. You’ve seen the scars. Do you really think I had any happy memories before I returned?”

“At least you’re not limiting it to being on the island now. But don’t lecture me on keeping secrets when you have your fair share of your own!”

He could feel the panic attack coming on as he thought of his time on the island and Hong Kong. And Russia. He had to chang the topic, and quickly. “And the island doesn’t affect the present. But _you_ could be distracted by whatever’s going on here.” The words were out before he could stop them.

He watched as Felicity’s eyes clouded with hurt. He wanted to call the words back. Felicity would never be distracted in any meaningful way while his and Digg’s lives were on the line and he knew that. It was going a step too far, and he didn’t really mean the insinuation, but he couldn’t turn back time. And now he had to watch the consequences unfold on her face in front of him. Hurt. Sadness. Exhaustion. And the scariest one of them all: Resignation.

“Maybe you’re right. Maybe I am distracted. I guess I should take some time off and deal with my own problems,” she said, shoulders slumped, arms crossed and holding herself like she was trying to keep herself together. 

His entire being revolted against the idea of Felicity leaving. It was the farthest thing from anything Oliver wanted. It was not a viable solution. “No.”

At that, Felicity’s blue eyes met his own, fire flashing them to life once more. Anything was preferable to that beaten-down look she’d worn before. “Which is it then, Oliver? Am I a liability or do you want me in?”

“I want you safe!” 

That was his truth. His singular, honest truth. And he screamed it at her, willing her to understand.

Maybe she did understand, at least part of it, because the hardness of her face broke away and she took a step forward, reaching up on her tiptoes to cup both sides of his face between her palms as she offered him reassurance. “I’m safe, Oliver. I’m fine. See?” She rubbed her thumbs across his cheekbones as if that would bolster her point. “I’m right here. It’s okay.”

He closed his eyes at her touch, concentrating on his breathing to calm himself down before he did something stupid like declare his undying love. Instead, he went with, “But something’s not right, Felicity. You’ve admitted that much. And you don’t smile as much anymore.”

Her voice, too, stayed calm and soft. “I’m stressed. I can’t just always be happy all the time. But I’m okay, and I promise you I’m handling it. It’s just taking me longer than expected.”

“Is it something I did?” The question had rattled around in his head a lot for the past few weeks. Every time he’d tried to get Felicity to open up to him and she refused, he couldn’t help but wonder why she didn’t feel comfortable talking to him. “Is that why you won’t talk to me? Because I did something that broke your trust somehow?”

Her fingertips stroked soothing lines into his cheeks. “Oh, Oliver. No. I really just don’t want you to have any more to deal with. I promise that’s all, and I promise I’m going to be okay. I’m handling this. I’m sorry I freaked out, okay?”

He leaned his head into one of her palms, allowing himself to relish the feel of her skin against his, even just for a minute. “I just need you to be okay, Felicity. If… If this life is too much for you, then… maybe you _should_ step back.” Seeing the hurt back in her eyes, he pressed forward. “Don’t look like that. Please. I want you with me. I need you, Felicity. But if it’s better for you to take some time, then that’s what you should do.”

There was a long pause as she processed his words before she spoke. “No. I’m not going anywhere, okay? I’m safest in the lair, with you.” He didn’t think he imagined the slight hesitation before she added, “And Digg.”

Accepting her answer, Oliver nodded, causing Felicity’s hands to fall from his face. He immediately missed the small tingle that her touch left on his skin. “Okay. But maybe we need a safe word in case things get too intense.”

This time Felicity was the one to make a choking noise. “Isn’t that supposed to be my line?”

“What? Oh! I didn’t mean… That’s not what…” Oliver’s tongue stumbled over his words in embarrassment.

Felicity giggled. “It’s a relief that it happens to normal people sometimes, too.”

Taking the gift of the lightened mood, even if it came at his own expense, Oliver laughed darkly, “I don’t think I’ve ever been normal.”

“Really? Billionaire frat boy, Mr. Popular and everybody wants me doesn’t think he was normal?”

“For all of those reasons I definitely wasn’t. I got everything I ever wanted. Until the island.”

“Oh, I wasn’t arguing with you. I was just surprised you were able to do such a good self-evaluation,” she quipped, a cheeky, playful smile adorning her face.

Even with her joking demeanor, Oliver couldn’t help but let her know how special she was to him. “It’s hard for me to lie to you.”

Felicity must have caught the seriousness and sincerity in his words because her face grew serious, too. “Obviously, my preference would be for you to not.”

Oliver stepped back into her personal space, this time lifting his hands to cup her face. “I don’t know if I’m ready for you to know all of my secrets. Just know that I share as much, if not more, with you than anyone else.” Blue met blue and suddenly the world spiralled.

He wasn’t sure who leaned in first, but in an instant he realized that his hands were in her hair and his lips were milimeters apart from hers. It would take a fraction of a movement to connect them, and Oliver wanted it. He craved it. In that instant, he needed to know if she tasted more like toothpaste or coffee. Would she whimper for him? Clutch his shirt tighter and pull him into her? He needed to know all of the details of kissing Felicity Smoak like he needed air to breathe. He didn’t think he could survive another instant without that knowledge.

He tightened his hand in her hair, ready to pull her the last breath separating them, when his phone started ringing in his pocket, causing them both to jump, his lips grazing hers lightly before losing contact.

* * *

Felicity felt the slightest, most delicious pressure against her lips before it was instantly gone. Recognizing the ringtone that had interrupted them though, caused Felicity to not even be able to fully enjoy it.

Instead, Felicity could feel the blood drain from her face and she slowly backed away from where Oliver stood with what she was sure would be the most adorable, confused, lost puppy look she had ever seen if she could appreciate it through the abject fear coursing through her.

The problem was this. Most of her memories from the night before had come back to her in the shower, and she distinctly remembered Bruce Wayne stealing her burner phone and finding out that she’d been texting dirty pictures to her boss. The boss that Bruce also knew she was in love with. The boss that Bruce was convinced also returned her feelings.

The Bruce Wayne that she was pretty sure still had her mother frakking burner phone.

The Bruce Wayne who would absolutely out her to Oliver Queen if he thought for one second it would lead to Felicity and Oliver falling madly in love and driving off into the sunset together.

And maybe that’s exactly what Bruce was doing right now. Messaging Oliver from the phone associated with the anonymous texter to tell him that it was her. That the woman who’d been texting Oliver dirty pictures was none other than his blonde IT-girl-turned-executive-assistant Girl Friday.

Oliver was still staring at her. The look he was giving her was highly recognizable, however. She’d seen it in her own mirror and felt it on her own face for over a year now. It was the look of someone recognizing that they were unwanted.

Felicity’s mind screamed “NO!” but nothing came out of her mouth. Before she could rally from her shock, Oliver turned and walked to the door and disappeared without another word.

How was this her life? She was about to get kissed by Oliver frakking Queen and the universe conspired against her to stop it from happening. Why? What bad thing had she done in a past life to deserve this kind of torture?

And why had Oliver even almost kissed her? It wasn’t like he wanted her. Hadn’t he just told her the night before that he was in love with Laurel who had shown up with someone else? Maybe he was still reeling from that and just looking for anyone to dull the pain with. Maybe it was just because he knew she’d be willing.

Something in her rebelled at that idea, knowing it wasn’t accurate. Knowing that Ollie Queen was a man of the past and that Oliver Queen would never play with someone’s feelings like that. But she couldn’t come up with an alternative theory. After all, Oliver having feelings for the dorky nerd girl when he could have any leggy, gorgeous brunette that he wanted? Not likely. Her and Oliver Queen were unthinkable.

And now he was gone. And she wanted to hit something. She maybe had the perfect something in mind.

She picked up her phone and dialed, immediately yelling at the person on the other end when she heard the receiver pick up. “Bruce Wayne! I am going to make your life a living hell.”

“Oh! So you _are_ up. I was wondering if it would be too early for me to call because of how hungover you must be, especially if I’m feeling this bad.”

“What the hell did you text to him, Bruce? Seriously! What were you thinking. How could you do something like that to me?” She was bordering on hysterical at this point, desperate to know what Bruce had done.

“Calm down, Lis. I didn’t tell him who you are or anything. I just maybe gave him a picture to look at. And provided a little encouragement. That’s all, I swear loverboy is still in the dark.”

That went a long way toward calming her down. She was still going to murder Bruce, though. “Those pictures were private, you dick. I want my phone back. Now.”

“I’ll give it back on one condition: you can’t complain about what I’m about to tell you.”

Was he seriously trying to blackmail her for the safe return of her phone? “What the hell does that mean? It’s _my_ phone, Bruce.”

“I agree, but it’s in my possession.”

“And I want it back in _my_ possession before I get creative on the Wayne Enterprises server room.”

“I will give it back, but you have to promise no loud voice. I’m just as hungover as you sound right now, which is insane because you’re way smaller than me and should be practically immobile right now.”

“Bruce Wayne!” she tried to bust out the loud voice, but her head was pounding and the effort only made it worse. “Nope - ugh. Fine. I reserve the right to use my loud voice at a later point, but I’m in way too much pain for it right now.”

She could practically hear Bruce’s relief across the phone. “So we’re agreed on at least a delay of the yelling until we feel better?”

“Yes. Now how do I get my phone back?”

A knock sounded on her door, startling her into almost dropping her phone. When she opened it, Bruce Wayne was standing there in jeans and a black t-shirt, looking unfairly good despite how hungover he claimed to be.

He handed her the phone while he elbowed past her into her apartment. “Here. Also - I bought the building and I’m moving in across the hall. Hi, neighbor!”

“Wh - what?” Felicity was dumbfounded. There was no way those words had actually left Bruce’s mouth, right? “You did what?” He shrugged his shoulders unapologetically, leaving no room for any doubt that she’d heard him right. “I’m going to kill you.”

Bruce made himself comfortable, leaning against her dining room table. “Tell me if I’m correct on the following: You have a stalker.”

She leveled her angry eyes on him, but knew she couldn’t deny the point. “....Correct.”

“Great start. Next: Your stalker knows where you live.”

“That might also be accurate.”

“I’m the only one who knows that you have a stalker.”

At that, Felicity couldn’t help but get smug. “Not true. I told my bodyguard friend. He could probably kick your ass.” Actually, she’d love to see that. Oliver-trained Diggle against Bruce Wayne’s vigilante. “Maybe I should tell him that _you’re_ the one that’s been sending the flowers.”

“Cute.” Bruce glowered at her. “So let me get this straight. You told the bodyguard about your stalker. The bodyguard who is busy literally guarding someone else’s body.”

Felicity harrumphed in response, mumbling under her breath, “If Oliver even lets him near his body.”

She could see Bruce fighting a grin in favor of keeping his stoic face. “Either way, you’re not his top priority, Lis. But you _are_ mine.”

“You are not getting anywhere near my body.”

Bruce couldn’t hold back the laugh that time. “That’s not strictly true. I’m going to be about a max of 100 feet away from you. I wasn’t kidding - I gave the Diaz family next door a very generous amount to have their stuff out by tonight.”

“But - I liked the Diazes. They brought me a home-cooked meal after I helped their daughter do her chemistry homework last week. Food, Bruce. Real food.” Her stomach chose that moment to remind her of the incredible breakfast that was currently making her feel full on top of hungover. “Ugh. I need to lay down.” 

She plopped down on the couch, stretching out her limbs and laying back against the armrest and Bruce followed her to the living room, sitting down in her burgundy oversized chair.

“What the hell did you send him, anyway?” She questioned Bruce, opening the messaging app on the phone, pulling up the conversation with Oliver.

* * *

Back at the mansion, Oliver was reeling from this morning.

He’d woken up after a night of having no nightmares, which was a rarity these days, then he and Felicity’d had a shouting match in her apartment after he cooked her breakfast, which had led to him almost kissing her.

Oliver had almost kissed Felicity. In fact, he could still feel the exact spot on his lip that had touched hers.

What the fuck had he been thinking?

He hadn’t been. That’s the only answer that made any kind of sense. There was something about her that turned him into an idiot. Just being in her presence felt like getting doused with an aphrodisiac that rendered him unable to think clearly and rationally.

He was no good for Felicity. He’d seen how pale she’d gotten as she backed away from him earlier. He had no idea what had caused that kind of reaction, but he thought it might be for the best. Maybe she’d avoid him now and he could stop himself from pushing for too much with her.  
Remembering the look on her face as she backed away from him caused him to remember the interruption as well. He’d been too focused on Felicity the whole way home that he hadn’t even remembered the text message until now. 

If he couldn’t have Felicity, maybe he could at least keep the small bit of light that his Mystery Girl brought to his life.

Opening the picture, Oliver almost dropped his phone. 

What was it with this girl and her ability to send him pictures that could make him weak in the knees? She had an amazing body. Seriously - if she wasn’t a model, she should be. The way she filled out lingerie should be seen and appreciated by all. She was a masterpiece.

This picture might be the most erotic one she’d ever sent him, however.

In it, the camera was trained on her delectable ass. The only one he’d ever seen comparable to this one was Felicity’s. And this time, it was center stage.

She was wearing a black scrap of underwear; he couldn’t tell if it was a thong or if it had just ridden up between her cheeks, giving him an incredible view of her pale, smooth skin. But that wasn’t what made the photo. 

There were also sheer, black thigh highs covering the portion of her legs visible in the photo. They reached to a level only a few inches below the curve of her ass and they were the kind that had a seam all the way down the back of the leg, clinging to every shape of her toned thighs, lining a path he could imagine following with his tongue. But it wasn’t just that, either.

It was the fact that, rather than being held up by garters, the tops of the thigh highs were being held in place by her fists. The photo looked like she was prepared to rip them off of her body at any moment, and the thought made him instantly hard. 

The text message that was sent didn’t help any either.

**10:47 A.M.: Thanks for last night, Sweetie.**

Oliver couldn’t handle this any more. 

**11:32 A.M.: I don’t know that I can do this anymore.**

He clicked send before he could second guess his decision. He knew it was the right thing, but cutting off their growing relationship was hard. In the past week or so, their relationship had evolved from simply sending pictures and asking for hints as to her identity to revealing small details about themselves to one another. Nothing important, but enough that it made him feel comfortable with this girl, and in his world where nothing was a guarantee and it was hard to tell who to trust, other than Diggle and Felicity, feeling comfortable with someone was a luxury he didn’t typically have. 

His phone rang with her tone again, signalling a new message.

**11:35 A.M.: I know. You said there was someone else last night. That’s fine. I know that this isn’t going anywhere.**

**11:35 A.M.: I just needed the confidence boost, I guess. Guys don’t really seem to like me, so I wanted to see if u thought I was attractive.**

Oliver was so confused. This girl was insanely hot; easily a twelve. He scrolled back through the pictures she’d sent him to make sure he hadn’t been hallucinating. Nope, definitely a twelve, if not higher. For her to say guys didn’t really like her made absolutely no sense to him. How could a man look at a woman like her and not be interested?

**11:37 A.M.: You most definitely are. And whoever doesn’t notice you is an idiot. If I didn’t care so much about this other woman, I’d definitely be actively trying to find you.**

And that was the truth. With his resources, even without recruiting Felicity’s help, Oliver would certainly be able to find out who this woman was if he wanted. He liked the banter of asking her time and time again, but he wasn’t actually expecting a real response, and he didn’t want one. However, if he wasn’t head over heels for Felicity, the way Mystery Girl made him feel would definitely force him to find her. And he didn’t want her to ever doubt her desirability, even if his own heart wasn’t available to her. He had to make her understand.

**11:38 A.M.: I get it. U want her. But being friends w/ u has been great. I’m not asking to meet or nething, and u said she wasn’t available anyway. So what’s the harm in having some fun?**

**11:38 A.M.: And I’m not asking for this to get romantic. The idea of you and me is unthinkable.**

Could he let himself do this? As long as she knew he wasn’t going to fall for her, he didn’t see the harm in being friends. And it sounded like she needed some reassurance and some help building up her confidence. Getting attention from someone famous like Oliver Queen was sure to be an ego boost. He didn’t mean that to sound conceited, but the truth was, paparazzi didn’t follow him because he _wasn’t_ famous and good-looking, so maybe she just needed what she said: assurance from someone like him that she was gorgeous and that whatever reason she felt overlooked by men had nothing to do with her. And maybe she could help him navigate his issues, too.

 _And you really don’t want to give up those pictures_ , his brain added, reminding him of the multiple orgasms he’d brought himself to imagining it was Felicity sending him those pictures.

Who could say it wasn’t, right? No matter how much evidence he had to the contrary, there was always a small piece of his head and heart that could swear he saw similarities between Felicity and Mystery Girl. It was something about the way he could seamlessly insert her in those pictures in his mind. The skin tone was right, the body type was right. It _could_ be her.

What it came down to was this: Oliver Queen had no idea what he wanted.

Well, he knew he _wanted_ it to be Felicity. That way, even if he never got to be with her the way he desperately wanted, he’d at least have the pictures and the fantasies. But if it _was_ her and he found out? How could he stop himself? 

And then he remembered their almost kiss a few short hours ago. How his phone had broken them apart. Felicity was definitely not sending him pictures on her phone when she was standing only inches from him. So it couldn’t be her.

But, if anyone could figure out how to send messages without touching the technology, it was her.

He was just so confused. All of the evidence pointed to his Mystery Girl not being Felicity Smoak, but he just couldn’t let the idea go. It was the masochist in him, he was certain.

On that thought, he was decided. He had to keep this friendship going. If only to figure out the truth.

**11:50 A.M.: Only unthinkable because you won’t tell me your name. But, if we’re doing this, let’s commit.**

With that, he pulled up his camera app on his phone and flipped it around, taking a picture of himself and hitting send before he could overthink what he was doing. It didn’t look too bad, but he couldn’t figure out why it was in black and white. Oh well, he’d figure that out later. Damn phones and technology.

**11:52 A.M.: Did u just take that? Do u know how unfair it is that u look that good just walking around?**

**11:52 A.M.: Yes. That’s me right now.**

**11:53 A.M.: I’ve never seen u wear headphones b4.**

She’d never.. What? He figured that she’d seen him around here and there, after all, he definitely wasn’t a recluse. He couldn’t be. As the Arrow, he needed to be seen a lot at night to throw suspicion off; that’s why owner of a nightclub was the perfect cover. But to be surprised that she’d never seen him wear something meant she was more familiar with him than he’d thought.

Before he could respond she texted again.

**11:53 A.M.: And I’m sorry, but u look awkward. That’s definitely a new look.**

**11:54 A.M.: Show me how you look then.**

There was a long pause where she didn’t respond. When his phone rang again, he saw it was a media message and a smile split his face. He’d worried that asking for spontaneous pictures might freak her out, but she was playing along!

His heart clenched as he opened it, seeing her laying in bed dressed casually. There was no lingerie, no sexy pose, but this picture felt more intimate than any he’d received before because he was seeing her in her natural state. 

She was sitting in bed, on sheets with what appeared to be a leaf pattern. The picture was a top view, looking straight down at her legs. There was a cup of coffee cushioned in the sheets next to her legs. Legs that were clad in dark gray thigh high socks. He could even see just a hint of a white sweater settling around the very tops of her thighs.

**12:02 P.M.: Don’t judge me being in bed. Hangovers suck.**

**12:03 P.M.: I’d never judge a beautiful woman in bed.**

**12:04 P.M.: Smooth, Mr. Queen. So, we’re staying friends then?**

He didn’t even hesitate in responding to her.

**12:04 P.M.: Yes. We are.**

* * *

Of course he’d known of the girl’s working relationship with the Bat Man, it was why she was being targeted in the first place, at least originally, but he’d assumed it was only her occasionally providing her brilliance to the Bat’s operation. He’d had no idea that it had devolved into some kind of friendship as well.

He’d been certain the Bat would remain in Gotham, protecting his precious city. The fact that Bruce Wayne had moved into the apartment across the hall from hers was an obstacle he hadn’t anticipated, but he was excited about the challenges it would present. He’d have to make adjustments to his plan, but his genius-level intellect relished the test of his intellectual prowess.

He also hadn’t foreseen her close relationship with her boss, Oliver Queen. The man bringing her home and spending the night cozy on the couch with Felicity Smoak prevented him from enacting the next round of his plan.

But that would come. Soon.

For now, he had to content himself with the fact that she’d soon find the gift he’d left her on the ledge of her bedroom window.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to check out the new pictures on [Pinterest](http://www.pinterest.com/thebookjump1732/picture-perfect) and come visit me on [Tumblr](http://thebookjumper.tumblr.com) where you can follow me and ask to be tagged in the Sneak Peeks and Updates that I post there.
> 
> Also, leave a message!


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Annnd.. we're back with another round. As always, thank you to everyone who commented, liked, left kudos, etc. on Chapter 14! You guys are fantastic. A special shout-out to MissyRiver, my amazing beta who helps keep me sane and motivated while writing.

# Picture Perfect

### Chapter 15

Felicity Smoak was going crazy - she was absolutely sure of it. Over the last few weeks, she had been convinced that she was going to wind up in the nuthouse.

In reality, she knew Oliver and Diggle would never actually let her go insane. Well, not that they’d be able to stop it, but she at least knew they’d never have her committed. 

It was probably just her nerves getting to her, but she’d been completely scatterbrained for the better part of three weeks now, and it was going to be what finally did her in. It had started with her coffee cup at work. Felicity had a mild case of OCD when it came to her office organization. Everything had its place. When she’d gone to reach for her work mug, one of her favorites that said ‘a yawn is a silent scream for coffee,’ the handle was on the left side instead of the right.

The next thing had been her computer monitor being switched off when she’d gone to get a cup of coffee. She never did that. She normally locked the computer, but never actually switched off the power to the screen when she’d be back within five minutes.

Another day, her favorite stapler had been put inside her desk drawer rather than in its spot in the top, right-hand corner of her desk.

Pens had gone missing, her tab stickers, too. Even her favorite set of panda-shaped post-it notes had disappeared from their spot over the weeks. Luckily, the last one had turned up in her apartment, on her dining room table. She couldn’t remember finding it in her purse and setting it there for her to bring back to the office, but it was the only explanation that made sense.

The last time she’d felt this out of sorts was during her first finals at MIT. The tests were more difficult than she’d anticipated, and it was compounded by being the sixteen-year-old everyone loved to hate. Even at college, kids were cruel. Always telling her she was going to fail, that such a young “kid” couldn’t possibly keep up with the best and brightest of the country. Regardless of her 170 IQ. _And_ she’d had a stalker. All at the same time. That was the last time she’d misplaced items like she was now.

She figured it had to do with the stress of juggling her anonymous texts with Oliver Queen, having Bruce Wayne living across the hall from her, keeping Oliver from _finding out_ that Bruce was living across the hall from her, and worrying about her stalker.

Or, truthfully, her lack thereof. 

She hadn’t heard from her stalker in about a month. Was it weird to be concerned about the person who had literally given her nightmares? Probably. But she couldn’t help it. And she wasn’t actually concerned about _him_ per se, she was more concerned about what it could mean _for her_ that he hadn’t been in contact of any kind. Her hope was that whoever it was had given up. But she knew, with her vast experience with stalkers, that that was very unlikely. Normally, these things escalated, right? That’s what they always said on all of the crime procedural shows that she watched. So that left her with the scariest option: he was plotting.

This realization had left her even more on edge. It was around this time that she’d begun misplacing things around her apartment, too. Her favorite at-home coffee mug, that she always left opening-down on a paper towel on the counter in the mornings to avoid dust was found right side up. Her hair brush from her nightstand appeared in her bathroom. Her shampoo was on a different side of her shower. 

Hence why she thought she was going crazy. She could remember doing none of this. And for someone as organized and structured as Felicity Smoak, that was truly a feat.

But the one thing she could always count on to make her feel a little bit better in the midst of all of the crazy surrounding her life? Oliver Queen.

After their almost.. something.. a few weeks ago, she had assumed Oliver would shut down and distance himself from her. Again. But, she had been pleasantly surprised by his actual reaction. And bewildered. And confused.

Oliver had started doing the salmon ladder every night in the foundry. Shirtless. And he’d smirk at her after he was done, like he’d put the effort in just for her entertainment. More like distraction, really. The performance was so drool-worthy that she was certain she’d never be able to eat the fish again without having a Pavlovian response to the word.

But she couldn’t understand the pride that colored his face every time he caught her staring at his pecs. It was like he was daring her to make a move.

Which made absolutely zero sense considering the last time they’d approached anything romantic, he’d run speeding out of her apartment. There was also the matter of the aftermath of Russia. So she had no idea where this sudden turnaround had come from. Not that it was a turnaround, exactly. Maybe he just thought it was funny to see her get flustered. Who knew?

And she didn’t really care _why_ he was doing it, just that she was treated to the spectacular view of his naked, sweaty 10-pack abs. Was that a thing? Could they really be a 10-pack? She’d heard of six-pack, obviously. Maybe as high as eight. But Oliver had ten. TEN. She’d counted.

She’d been told once that women didn’t sweat; men sweat, women glistened. But the way Oliver’s chest and abs gleamed as they caught the overhead lights in the foundry, she considered that maybe the Tae Kwon Do instructor from the classes her mom had forced her to take as a kid had lied to her. Because now she had empirical evidence that men glistened, too. (She resisted the temptation to make a sparkly vampire reference.)

He’d been touching her more, too. A hand on her shoulder when he leaned down next to her to see her computer monitor in the lair. A graze of his fingers when she handed him folders at work. A squeeze of her hand when she’d be tapping her pen in boredom during a meeting. And lately, his touches would linger. After squeezing her hand, his fingers would trail along the top of her hand before he let go completely. Maybe she was imagining it, but she could’ve sworn she felt them trace along her bare shoulder in the lair, too, but it was so light she couldn’t be sure.

And she definitely wasn’t going to ask. If she was wrong, Oliver really might have her committed.

The one thing that was kind of odd was that this newfound, flirty sexual tension between them had really picked up as his relationship with her anonymous, picture-sending, alter-ego had expanded.

They’d been having increasingly personal conversations as of late, and she wasn’t sure how to feel about it. He was really opening up to her in those text conversations; talking about things he’d never talked about with Felicity before. She really felt like they were turning over a new leaf in their relationship. The only problem was, he was flipping that leaf with someone whose identity he didn’t even know.

And that’s why she was ambivalent about this newly-minted closeness. Because it hurt. It hurt that Oliver never opened up like this to _her_. Felicity her. Not anonymous picture girl. She’d thought they were friends. It seemed like they had been getting closer over the last few months, like Oliver was making an effort to get to know her, but he was having real conversations with a woman he didn’t know.

Hell, for all Oliver knew, he could be opening up to a 65-year-old, fat-bellied trucker who hadn’t bathed in four or five days.

And she knew it wasn’t personal, that the anonymity probably made him feel safe. Much in the same way it did for all of the internet trolls who liked to start fights or leave nasty messages for people, but would never act the same way in real life. By not knowing exactly who he was speaking with, it was probably an added layer of protection. Whoever it was couldn’t judge him for anything he said, and if they did, he could cut off all contact without any repercussions. She knew all of this.

But it didn’t make it suck any less.

At the same time, she was getting to learn so much more about Oliver. He said he’d acted out in his younger years because he felt like he was being forced into a life he didn’t get to choose. But now that he was back, after the island, he wanted to feel closer to his family, specifically his father, and that’s why he’d agreed to take over as CEO once Moira could no longer hold the position.

He talked about the girl he wanted but couldn’t let himself have. How he felt like she lifted a huge weight off of his shoulders every time he saw her. How she was smart, gorgeous, and entirely too good for him. That last point she’d vehemently fought him on. He was Oliver Queen. He was a good man, who tried his best, and did everything he could for the people he cared about, and she’d told him as much. And Laurel was the one who wasn’t good enough for him. At least in Felicity’s opinion, and she made sure to express that point to him, loud and clear. Well, as loud as she could be via text.

At that, Oliver had revealed one of the weirdest things. He hadn’t seen Laurel in months. So Laurel wasn’t the person he’d been upset about coming to the Halloween party with another guy. But, Felicity hadn’t seen him with anyone else in a long time. Just John. Of course he’d asked how she knew about Laurel, cluing Felicity into her mistake. But, everyone knew of his relationship with Laurel, right? It was all over the tabloids and the society pages, and she’d told him as much. He seemed to accept that explanation, although the tone of his texts turned slightly more suspicious at this.

But the weirdest thing of all: Oliver talked about Felicity. A lot. Like, a scary amount. It was enough to make a girl think that maybe Oliver had a thing for her. Which was insane. 

Wasn’t it?

But the fact remained. Oliver was always saying things like, “Oh! My Executive Assistant Felicity likes that, too,” or “Felicity said something similar once.” She didn’t know what to make of it. Usually she tried to distract him from talking about her by sending him more pictures. 

But, even the nature of the pictures she sent him had changed, too. Where before, she’d carefully planned each photograph that she would send his way, ensuring that each one was staged and showed her in the best possible light, making sure she was as sexy as possible, now she found herself sending spur-of-the-moment pics. Usually in response to receiving another candid, adorably dorky but still somehow gorgeous, photo of Oliver himself, with the occasional one thrown in to distract him.

Really though, he was the one distracting her, and she was grateful for it. Between their real-life interactions and their text message relationship, Felicity found she could think of little else. Occasionally thoughts of her absentee stalker would keep her up at night, but usually the reason she couldn’t sleep was due to explicit dreams she had, all featuring Oliver Queen.

Her favorite had been the one with the handcuffs. She still couldn’t believe she’d mentioned that particular kink of hers to him of all people, but the fact that he’d commented on it more than once led her to believe he wasn’t opposed to the idea of tying a girl up himself. That had definitely fueled her nighttime imagination.

Her favorite scenario involved the Arrow breaking into her bedroom in the middle of the night, wearing his full leathers. He’d growl, “Felicity Smoak, you have failed this city and you must be punished,” with his voice modulator on, then he’d straddle her in her bed to keep her in place while he lifted her arms above her head and secured them with handcuffs to her headboard. Pushing his hood back off his face, he’d grin at her before leaning forward and capturing her lips with a bruising kiss. 

Because it was a dream, she would, of course, be wearing a gorgeous, lacy nightgown rather than her usual sleepwear that involved cotton shorts or pants and a tank top, and Oliver would delight in pulling the hemline of the nightgown slowly up her body, inch by inch, kissing each new patch of skin as he revealed it. Eventually, the nightgown would wind up around her arms, adding a new layer to her confinement, and leaving her completely bare before him. He’d use his hands and mouth to make her squirm, begging for him, but unable to do anything about it with her arms secured. And only just before she reached her breaking point would he give in and bring her off. First with his fingers, then his mouth, before he’d push into her and and make her fall apart around him.

It was an amazing dream.

She had to fan herself even sitting her in the office thinking about it. The only thing that distracted her was feeling the slight vibration of the burner phone where it was strapped to her thigh. She’d gotten in the habit of keeping it lodged in the top of the stockings she’d begun to wear at work, solely for this purpose. Thank goodness she was good at fiddling around with technology; she’d been able to work the phone so that the vibration it would give off with the notifications was so slight that it couldn’t be heard, only felt.

Oliver had taken to texting his virtual friend during the work day, and Felicity had to be prepared. Normally, she’d feel the text message come in and then she’d wait until Oliver’s next meeting was scheduled or she’d run to the bathroom before she’d type out a response and schedule it to send for a few minutes after she’d make it back to her desk in full sight of him.

She looked at the time on her computer and realized it was close to lunch time. Oliver would be leaving soon to go pick it up from whatever fantastic place he'd chosen for them this time. So she waited . When he finally left, she got up and went to the bathroom to check the message; she wasn't taking any chances. 

* * *

Felicity was driving Oliver crazy. Or, at least he _suspected_ it was Felicity. He wasn’t completely convinced that Mystery Girl and Felicity Smoak were the same person, but he had a general suspicion. And that idea was slowly driving him mad.

Although everything about Felicity did that without any effort on her part. From her golden ponytail to her bright lips, her tight dresses to her killer heels, her brilliance to her acerbic wit, everything about her spoke to everything in him, making him desperately desire her.

The only thing keeping him from acting on it was the thought that he wasn’t good enough for her, that he would get her hurt, or even worse, killed, purely by her association with him. He couldn’t be the Arrow and her boyfriend. Not without risking her safety. 

But that was being made increasingly more difficult by the thoughts that his Mystery Girl could be her. How was he supposed to control his eyes from roaming her delectable body when his brain and heart were telling him that he’d seen so much more of her curves? Every time she moved and her dresses clung to another part of her body, he wondered if it was the same body that was bared to him in his Mystery Girl’s photos. 

It had started with him wanting to be friends with Mystery Girl. Sure they’d traded pictures to one another. Silly ones from his end met sexy ones on hers, but it was more than that. By not knowing who she was, he felt more at ease sharing pieces of himself. That shouldn’t have made sense to the inner parts of him where the celebrity Ollie Queen remembered exactly the ridiculous lengths the media would go to get the scoop on his latest fuck-up, but something about this girl just put him at ease. It had always been that way with her. He felt comfortable.

And in that comfort, he began taking advantage. Talking to her a little bit about himself. Telling her things that he’d never said out loud to anyone else. And maybe that was the point. He could type them out, but they’d never be out loud. It made it feel less real, he supposed. So they’d talked. Him about his life from before Lian Yu, and after. Her about her life in general. How she hated her job and felt undervalued, but how she put up with it because she really enjoyed the people she worked with. How her boss was demanding, but she kind of loved it because she really felt like she was making a difference.

She was careful, though, to never divulge too many details that could give him any clue as to her identity. She didn’t say what she did, never mentioned any names of the people she worked with, or any names at all, really.

But then he’d started to notice things, little things at first, that reminded him of Felicity. Certain ways she’d phrase things and certain topics she’d mention would bring Felicity to his mind right away. (Not that she was ever really far from his mind anyway.) 

She made references to TV shows, too, ones that he could remember Felicity mentioning offhand. There was talk about her never having enough time to watch all of the shows she was interested in, something Felicity had complained about on multiple occasions. She told him, after he’d listed insomnia as his excuse for being up and messaging at four o’clock in the morning one night, that she worked odd hours, too, and he should never worry about texting her because of it. Also that she was a heavy sleeper, so on the off-chance that he texted her when she wasn’t awake, it wouldn’t cause her to lose any sleep. Which could just be a smokescreen for hiding the fact that she was up late because of Arrow business, his mind had helpfully supplied.

There were other, deeper things over the past few that hinted at her identity being Felicity Smoak, too. It was in the way she knew little details about him that no one could; the way she’d told him to pick the blue shirt with the grey tie that he preferred when he had an important meeting. It was in the way his comment about Felicity being too good for him stoked her anger like striking a match near kerosene. The only person other than Felicity who’d ever told him he was a good man was Thea, and she’d never expressed her feelings on that point as passionately as his Mystery Girl had when he’d made the original comment, the same fierceness coming through in her defending of him as Felicity had done. And the way she’d immediately assumed he was referring to Laurel when he texted her about the woman who’d captured his heart but that he couldn’t allow himself to have, the same way Diggle and Felicity always assumed he pined after Laurel.

But these things were ones that many women must have. For example, Felicity was definitely not the only woman who didn’t like her job, who didn’t have enough time to watch her favorite TV shows. Plenty of women would tell a billionaire man like Oliver Queen that he was too good for people just to get somewhere with him. Right?

Except his Mystery Girl was adamant about not meeting, about keeping their friendship strictly virtual. Which made him believe that she wasn't really looking to bag a Queen, but rather actually believed the words coming out of her mouth. Which was a rarity for him. Only Digg, Thea, and Felicity gave him the unembellished truth without expecting anything from him.

Well, these days it was only really Thea and Digg. Mostly Digg. He didn’t really see Thea all that much lately as she was focused on their mother’s trial and angry with him for not taking more of an interest in it. But what was there really to take an interest in? His mother had assisted in the murder of over five-hundred people. Sure she’d helped at the end, giving some people a warning to get out of the Glades, but it was too little to save everyone. Oliver knew she was remorseful, and he was glad the death penalty had been taken off the table by the judge, who happened to be an old Queen family friend, like every judge in Starling City. In his view, whatever she got was what she deserved. Thea tended to disagree, and when he’d voiced that opinion to her, she’d stormed out throwing back a biting comment about hoping his Mystery Girl would be okay with him throwing his mother to the wolves.

And Felicity? Well, where his friendship with his Mystery Girl was growing and improving, he felt like Felicity was slipping further away. She was getting worse and worse. She was jumpy and on edge. She’d bolt out of her seat if he entered a room too quietly, then she’d try to laugh off her reaction by threatening to make him wear a bell. But, Oliver could tell there was something else going on with her. He’d asked Digg again to tell him what was wrong with her, and the man had shared only enough to reassure Oliver that nothing new had happened that he was aware of, and that he thought the situation had resolved itself.

Truthfully though, that information had Oliver even more concerned. If it wasn’t whatever had been bothering her originally, then was it something new? Something she wasn’t sharing with either Diggle or himself? The thought that she’d keep something from both of them was more terrifying than knowing she’d filled John in and not Oliver. He hoped that wasn’t the case.

So he’d been trying to coax her into talking to him. He’d order her Big Belly for lunch and eat it with her at her desk, hoping to spur some conversation with her, thrilled that even if she wouldn’t open up, at least he could make sure she was eating a minimal one meal a day. He’d even started having yogurt and fruit delivered for breakfast to try and make sure she was eating that, too, but she never really seemed to touch it in the mornings, too busy looking over her desk in what appeared to be confusion, so eventually he’d given up on breakfast.

When she’d been particularly upset over the past few weeks, he’d tried to offer her more comfort, too. On a few occasions he’d called her name three or four times, receiving no answer, and at first he would think she was just engrossed in her coding, but then he’d get closer and realize that her hands weren’t even in contact with her keyboard, and she was just staring into space. On those instances, he’d walk over and gently lay his hand on her shoulder. It was completely selfish on his part that he’d make sure he touched her skin at least a little. Hadn’t he read somewhere that skin-to-skin contact was comforting to animals? Some study or something? (He was definitely grasping at straws to try and justify the fact that he just wanted to feel her under his fingertips.)

He’d rub her arms, too, in a comforting way that he remembered doing to Thea when she was upset. Just a light trail of his fingertips softly up and down her arm.

He was trying to offer any small comfort that she’d allow him to. And if his touch felt to her anything like hers felt to him, it would help. Everytime she touched his shoulder or grabbed his arm, patched up a wound, or hugged him after a particularly rough night, she had an instant calming effect on him. He hoped she felt the same.

He really hoped she’d just talk to him. If only she would be as open with him as his Mystery Girl was.

He’d even tried asking Mystery Girl for some advice a few days ago, desperately hoping that she would have some insight into the female psyche that Oliver was obviously severely lacking, that maybe she would have some suggestions for how he could help Felicity.

**11:23 P.M.: Can I ask you for some advice?**

**11:24 P.M.: Uhh.. Sure. But it’s gonna cost u.**

He couldn’t help but smile. Of course it was going to cost him. Because his Mystery Girl had a fantastic sense of humor, and would never pass up an opportunity to have him owe her something. 

**11:25 P.M.: That’s fine with me.**

**11:25 P.M.: Don’t u want 2 know what u’re committing urself to?**

He really didn’t care. He trusted her, probably way more than he should, but he somehow knew without a doubt that she wouldn’t ask for anything he was unwilling to give. 

**11:26 P.M.: Nah. I’ll give it to you.**

**11:27 P.M.: That’s dangerous, Mr. Queen. U have no idea what I want.**

**11:27 P.M.: Whatever it is, it’s yours. Just tell me.**

**11:28 P.M.: Dick pic.**

Thank god he was on patrol and no one was around to see him. His mouth gaped open in what he was sure resembled a comical O like he and Thea used to see in the cartoons they’d watch together as kids and his face burned bright red. He could actually feel the blood flash like fire on the tips of his ears. He had no idea what to say to that. But he was saved by another text coming through.

**11:29 P.M.: Oh God. Don’t send one. That was a joke. A bad joke. Please don’t send one of those. I was just trying to prove a point that u shouldn’t commit yourself to something u don’t know.**

See? If he didn’t know any better, that would sound like one of Felicity’s typical babbles. He wasn’t sure she did that via text, but he could picture the words tumbling out of her mouth. He decided to make his Mystery Girl sweat a little.

**11:29 P.M.: No. What the lady wants, the lady gets.**

Then he started searching the internet. Finding the picture he wanted, he clicked on it and attached it to his text message, then hit send.

Three minutes later he still hadn’t heard anything from his Mystery Girl.

**11:31 P.M.: Are you ok?**

**11:32 P.M.: Oh thank god. I thought it was really going to be one. That’s what took me so long to respond, I was working up the nerve to look! Mean.**

Oliver laughed at the picture forming in his head of a girl terrified of checking the screen of her phone. 

**11:32 P.M.: Not mean. Funny.**

**11:33 P.M.: Maybe a little funny. What do you have against Bruce Wayne tho?**

Oliver couldn’t help but roll his eyes. Was every woman in his life a fan of Bruce Wayne? The guy was a pompous jerk who wore perfectly tailored Armani suits every where. Sure, Oliver did, too, but it was different. Oliver did good for the city in his spare time. Bruce was just another socialite throwing money at problems instead of doing something real about them.

**11:34 P.M.: Have you met the guy? He screams dick.**

**11:35 P.M.: Yeah, yeah. What was it you wanted to ask me?**

Oh right, the advice. But first…

**11:35 P.M.: I’ll ask after you tell me what you want.**

**11:35 P.M.: Just a pick of whatever you’re doing right now will be fine.**

Letting him off easy. He quickly opened up the gallery on his phone and picked one of the pictures he’d taken of himself in bed for just such an occasion. This way she’d never know that he was the Arrow. He attached it to the message and sent it over to her.

**11:37 P.M.: Why do I not believe u’re actually in bed at this hour? It’s only 11:37. Very atypical of our conversations.**

Well, maybe he hadn’t thought that completely through. Fuck. 

**11:39 P.M.: Rough day today. I was hoping on catching up on some much needed sleep.**

Flimsy, but it made sense, right? Hopefully she’d buy it without too much additional questioning. It was definitely a better lie than he’d offered Felicity in the first few months of knowing her.

**11:40 P.M.: Sorry. Is that what u needed advice 4?**

He let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding when she seemed to readily accept the lie that he was currently in bed. Maybe he’d gotten better at it.

**11:41 P.M.: No. I was wondering if you had any advice on how to cheer up a woman.**

That was vague enough, right?

**11:42 P.M.: Depends on the woman. And the situation. Did u screw up?**

**11:42 P.M.: No. At least, I don’t think so. There’s something going on with Felicity, my EA. She’s seemed especially down lately, and she won’t tell me what’s going on. I was hoping you might know how I can get her to open up.**

She hadn’t provided him any fantastic advice. Truthfully, hers had simply mirrored what Felicity had asked of him the last time he’d brought it up; give her space to figure out whatever is going on with her and if she wants your help, she’ll ask for it. In truth, the similarity was a little too eerie if the two women weren’t the same.

Right now, however, he was leaning towards that not being the case. Remembering how out of sorts Felicity had been over the past few weeks, distracted, quick to temper, and jumpy, Oliver couldn’t help but contrast that to how Mystery Girl had been throughout the same time. And nothing about his relationship with Mystery Girl had changed. If anything, they’d gotten closer, sharing more about their lives and growing as friends. 

He couldn’t imagine Felicity being able to compartmentalize her life and thoughts enough for that kind of interaction. She was an exceedingly emotional person and those kind were always the ones who had the hardest time separating pieces of their lives from the rest. If something was affecting her, which it obviously was lately, there was no way she’d be able to completely stop it from coloring her interactions with him as his Mystery Girl, too, assuming everything he knew and assumed about her was accurate. 

Although, wasn’t Digg always saying that he didn’t really get to know Felicity well enough? Never asked about her background, any college stories, family, anything. Maybe there was something in her past that could allow her to function in an unpredictable way? Or maybe his own mind was the one playing tricks in this situation. It was hard to tell if he was just convincing himself of evidence that wasn’t really there, or if his mind was trying to talk him out of something that made complete sense. It could go either way.

These were the thoughts that plagued him as he carried a bag containing three individual-sized chicken pot pies that he had whipped up the night before. He couldn’t bring himself to continue feeding Felicity complete junk day in and day out, but the one time he’d substituted a spinach sweet crisp salad for her typical Big Belly Buster had gone over about as well as attempting to bathe a tiger in a bathtub. Having learned his lesson, he started trying to sneak healthier foods into her for lunch without letting on that it was actually healthy food. Hence the homemade chicken pot pies for him, Digg, and Felicity.

Obviously, he’d tell her that Raisa made them instead of him. He wanted to know what she really thought of his cooking, and didn’t believe she’d be anything other than completely gracious and complimentary if she knew it was really him that had made it for her. Was it normal to be nervous before you were going to feed a girl your home-cooked food for the first time? Probably. But not when you weren’t even dating the girl. No matter how much the idea of cooking for her for the rest of your life appealed to you.

Shaking his head to clear the thoughts of Felicity being his forever, feeling sure she would somehow read them on his face, he stepped off the elevator forcing a slow, even pace to project an air of nonchalance over himself.

The feigned aloofness was immediately broken by the scene that greeted him on his office.

Felicity was hugging her knees to her chest and burying her face between them to keep it hidden from the view of the two, now three, men surrounding her, so they couldn’t see her cry.

And that was what got Oliver moving. Felicity was crying. Not just crying; sobbing. And shaking. He’d never witnessed anything so heartbreaking in his life, and he’d seen quite a few rivals for this moment.

“Shhh, Felicity. It’s okay, it’s all going to be okay.” John was standing next to her chair, running his hands down her arms, trying to calm her down.

“Breathe, ‘Lis.” Bruce Wayne was on her other side, working with Digg in tandem to soothe the bawling girl in front of them. Bruce turned Felicity in her chair to face him, lowering himself to rest his head on her knees in a gesture that would’ve made Oliver see red if he weren’t so terrified of what was happening with Felicity. “He won’t get near our building ever again. Okay?”

Before he even realized he’d moved, Oliver was across the room and in front of Felicity’s chair, the food forgotten on Felicity’s desk. He rotated her chair again, and sunk to his knees in front of her, resting his hands gently on the tops of her bare feet so she’d feel his presence.

“Hey, Felicity. What’s going on? You okay?” he questioned lightly, almost whispering in front of her. 

He received a loud sniffle in return before she buried her face further between her thighs. In a voice he had to strain to hear, she murmured, “I thought he was gone but he wasn’t. I’m so sorry. So sorry, Oliver.”

“No, no. There’s nothing to be sorry for, honey. Just tell me who you’re talking about and I’ll take care of it,” he pleaded with her.

After a few more heart-wrenching gasps of air from Felicity, it was apparent she wasn’t in a condition to talk, so he looked expectantly at Diggle, completely disregarding Bruce Wayne’s presence. “What happened?”

He was met with silence from his friend who looked back at the crying girl in the chair as if to ask for permission, and he finally couldn’t do it any more. He snapped, rising to his feet.

“Just tell me what’s going on. Don’t look at her. Look at me. I obviously need to know. We’re at that point now where you have to tell me. I’m sick of you and her shutting me out from this. It’s gone on too long, Digg. Loop me in.”

Not one to be disregarded, Bruce Wayne stepped in. “Listen, it’s not up to you what you get to know and when. It’s her life and if she doesn’t want to share this with you, you don’t get to push. What’s a playboy billionaire masquerading as a responsible adult going to do anyway?”

His fingers twitched with the need to put an arrow through Bruce Wayne. Who the fuck did this guy think he was, coming to his town, befriending his girl, acting like he gave a shit about her when he barely knew her? No. “You’re the same fucking billionaire playboy as me, Wayne. But I _care_ about her and I will do everything in my power to help her. What the fuck are _you_ doing for her?”

This time when Bruce smirked, it was filled with contempt rather than the amusement Oliver had begun to associate with the man.

“I moved into the apartment across the hall from her,” he counted off his deeds with his fingers. “I bought the building she lives in and am currently having security upgraded as we speak.”

Oliver couldn’t help but react to that. “You WHAT?!” he sneered at Bruce.

“I’m doing more for her than you could possibly comprehend. You may care about her, but I’m caring _for_ her. Don’t worry, Oliver. I’ll make sure your _Secretary_ stays safe,” he emphasized secretary with a voice dripping of condescension to make the point that he believed that’s all she was to Oliver.

“It’s Executive Assistant! And your business is done here. Get out of here you arrogant prick.” Oliver’s voice was deceptively calm, the dangerous kind of calm, as he stared down Bruce Wayne with a glare that was more Arrow than CEO, daring the man to make any move other than toward the door.

Until Felicity got control over her voice again. Her loud voice. “STOP IT. Both of you,” her voice trembled. “Please.” She crumbled at that, forcing Oliver’s attention back to his girl’s shaking form. 

Her eyes were startlingly blue, set off by the red rim surrounding them. The tear tracks down her cheeks were his undoing; he couldn’t stand the sight of her beautiful face marred by her obvious sadness and fear. It broke his tenuous hold on the tightly-controlled feelings for her. 

He dropped back to his knees in front of her, eyes never leaving hers. He reached for her, pushing the hair that had escaped from her ponytail away from her face before allowing his hands to reach behind her head and grasp her ponytail holder. Carefully, he pulled the elastic from her head, releasing all of her hair from its confines. Setting it aside, he returned his hands to her head, massaging her scalp lightly while separating her hair to lay back down around her shoulders. 

He returned his hands to cup the sides of her haid, his thumbs trailing over the paths of the tears that had fallen down her face, rubbing them from existence. When he was satisfied with his work and she had calmed herself back down to only slight hiccups, staring at him with wide eyes laced with a hint of confusion and… was that tenderness? … he leaned in and pressed his lips to her forehead and held them there.

When he spoke, his lips brushed her skin with every syllable. “Please. Talk to me, Felicity,” he implored her.

She nodded in his grasp. “Okay.” She inhaled a deep breath, held it for a few seconds, before letting it out in a puff of air. “Okay. I’ll tell you everything.”

He forced himself to move a few inches away from her so he could look her in the eyes again, only to find that she was looking at Bruce Wayne. When she turned her gaze back to Oliver’s, something in it had hardened. “But I have conditions. Neither of you get to kick the other out of my life. You’re both my friends, and our work together is important to me. So no more of this macho bullshit. Deal?”

If it meant she’d finally let him in, he’d have promised her anything she asked for. Even now, knowing that Bruce Wayne had moved across the hall from her and she wanted him to be okay with it, he couldn’t find it in himself to care. His heart was too full, his stomach too nervous, at the idea that she was finally going to trust him with her problems, to let him help her, that all of his concerns regarding Bruce Wayne could be put aside to examine later.

“Okay. Deal.”

* * *

Felicity couldn’t believe she was about to do this. It went against every bone in her body, every instinct she had, to become one more burden to Oliver Queen. Because that’s what she was about to do - become another problem for him, a reason to fracture his focus on his family yet again.

But she had to. At this point, it was almost a necessity. She hadn’t heard from her stalker in three weeks. Or at least, she thought she hadn’t. Until about ten minutes ago, she thought she’d just been a basket case. But no, it was him. Every single thing was him. When her cup appeared in a weird position, when her stapler went missing. _When the bottle of her shampoo moved in her frakking shower._ It was all him. He was screwing with her head. It was all just some kind of demented mind game.

Looking into Oliver’s beseeching eyes, feeling the sheer terror that the recent events had brought to her, she knew she had no other choice. If she wanted to make it out of this, she had to loop in her hero to what was going on. Even though she knew he’d resent her for it later, for splitting his attention from where it should be right now: on Moira and his relationship with Thea and on keeping his family’s legacy afloat amidst the chaos and plummeting stock prices. 

But, she was pretty sure this was going to be her life. And if she didn’t clue Oliver in, he’d just be more guilty if things went sideways. Even though it was her decision to keep him out of it, and he had no part in it whatsoever, if something happened to her, he’d find a way to shoulder that blame. It was who he was.

She inhaled. One. Two. Three. Exhaled. One. Two. Three. Again. Using an old trick she’d learned from a therapist in college to stave off anxiety attacks, Felicity pulled herself together.

“It started a few months ago,” she began.

“Months?!” She could tell Oliver was already internalizing some guilt and she was only six words in. Apparently starting at the beginning and slowly working her way to the scary stuff wasn’t the right play.

She tried again, “I have a stalker, apparently. Again.” She saw Oliver’s mouth drop open again in a bid to speak, but she rushed words out of her mouth before he could. “Who says things like that? What kind of person am I that I’m literally on my third stalker of my life? The one in college should have been my quota right?”

It was only his hands coming to rest lightly on her thighs that shut her up.

In. Two. Three. Out. Two. Three.

“Sorry, I’m just spooked.” Oliver nodded at her, rubbing small circles around her kneecaps in a comforting, and entirely distracting, gesture. “It started with flowers. Flowers at the office, flowers at Verdant. Flowers outside of my apartment. And then radio silence. Or what I thought was radio silence. But then things started moving, and I thought I was going insane. God, it even sounds insane hearing myself say it.

“It was small things, so small I didn’t notice. Except I did. They were all tiny annoyances, but every single one of them was explainable. Maybe I was so distracted by work that I put my coffee cup down wrong. Maybe Oliver borrowed the stapler and didn’t put it back right. Maybe I was tired and set my hairbrush in a different spot that morning.”

As the list went on, Oliver seemed to tense further with every new reveal, his grip on her thigh increasing with every second to the point where it was almost painful. If he thought this part was bad, it was about to get so much worse.

“Today, I realized that it was him. Each weird occurrence that was slowly driving mad was actually carefully planned and executed by my latest stalker.” Her hands shook slightly, and she carefully avoided looking at her desk, knowing that one glimpse of what she’d discovered ten minutes ago would set her off again. She had no idea how to describe it to Oliver without losing it herself.

Maybe she didn’t have to. “And I know it was all him because today, I came back to my desk and found _that_ ,” she gestured to where her calendar lay open near her keyboard.

At this, Oliver stood and went to look at what she’d pointed to.

Felicity was completely silent as she observed Oliver. She watched him so closely that she was able to identify the exact moment in time he realized what he was looking at. Knowing the different facets of Oliver Queen as well as she did, she recognized the shift in the man in front of her. Gone was Oliver Queen, CEO, and in his place stood the Arrow. Sure he was standing in Queen Consolidated and didn’t have his suit on, but his stance was unmistakable to her; she saw it almost every night before he left on patrol to keep the city safe.

He turned back around, slowly, his blazing eyes settling on Felicity’s. She could read the sheer panic in his gorgeous blue irises. 

His voice was growly, and sounded just like the Arrow when he spoke, “What does this mean?”

She couldn’t help but look at Bruce to see if he’d realized just who her CEO boss really was. Thankfully, he was still just looking at her in concern, not paying enough attention to Oliver to put two-and-two together. Well, that was one crisis averted.  
She realized then that she couldn’t answer Oliver’s question; every answer too chilling to contemplate.

Apparently she was the only one for whom that was an issue. Diggle stepped forward and rested his hand on her shoulder, giving it a light squeeze in a silent showing of support before he answered Oliver’s question. “It’s a threat. Pure and simple. And it needs to be neutralized.”

That’s exactly what it was. There was a date that was circled on her calendar, Thanksgiving Day, with a purple, spiky-petaled flower, similar to a daisy, laying next to it and a sticky note from her collection at her apartment, which she was able to recognize from its unique speech-bubble shape, that just said, “See you soon.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there we have it! Another chapter in the books, and a threat against our heroine.
> 
> Don't forget to check out the [Pinterest board](http://www.pinterest.com/thebookjump1732/picture-perfect) to see the picture Oliver sends to Mystery Girl this week! Also - go follow me on [Tumblr](http://thebookjumper.tumblr.com) and ask to be tagged in Sneak Peeks and Update notifications!
> 
> Also - any of you Olicity Fic writers out there, I'm running an event for the fandom called Olicity Hiatus Fic-A-Thon where I give out a writing prompt once a week and everyone has a week to write, beta, and post their response to that prompt. The details are on my Tumblr page. Go check it out and participate! Or if you just want to read the marvelous fics this produces, send me a message on Tumblr and asked to be tagged in those posts.
> 
> We'll make it through this hiatus together, folks!


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're back for another installment. I'm apologizing for how long it's been since I posted a chapter, but I've had so much going on in my real and online lives that it's been hard to keep up with everything. (I feel like that's always my excuse, but it's always true.) I've been moderating the Olicity Hiatus Fic-A-Thon over on Tumblr, which is so incredibly fun, but also seriously time-consuming.
> 
> Also, I had to prepare for and actually go to trial and litigate. Direct examinations and everything. AND I WON MY FIRST CASE! I'm undefeated in my legal career. My plan is to now retire from the courtroom so that for the duration of my career I will remain undefeated. Who knew trials were such time-sucks though? They are. 
> 
> And then Camp Nanowrimo happened, which was incredible, but I was focused on trying to get my other WIP further along. I've learned my lesson from this story, and I refuse to post a new story until I'm at least halfway through writing it!
> 
> Anyway, enough about me. On to our two favorite idiots. 
> 
>  
> 
> **The last time we saw them, Oliver had just found out that Felicity has a stalker that she's kept secret from him for months, and that stalker has now made a threat against Felicity...**

# Picture Perfect

### Chapter 16

Oliver was at war with himself. More accurately, his emotions were at war in his head. He was simultaneously furious and terrified all at once, both emotions clashing to figure which one would win in the end.

How could she have kept this from him? How could Diggle have let her keep this from him? And it had been going on for months now. _Months_. Oh, God. Anything could have happened to her. Stalkers escalated. And she’d had a stalker for months, one that apparently everyone knew about, including Bruce Wayne. 

That stung. Felicity had trusted Bruce Wayne with her safety instead of him, her resident vigilante. What did Bruce have, really? A big bank account? So did Oliver. But Oliver also had mad ninja skills, as they were lovingly dubbed by Felicity, and she had to know that he would put every single skill in his quiver to use to protect her. She was family. More than. And just like he’d put everything on the line to help his mom, he’d do the same for her.

He looked back down at the calendar and his stomach dropped, the anger fading into terror once more. A stalker was after Felicity. His Girl Wednesday. Felicity, Diggle, and Bruce obviously knew nothing about him or he wouldn’t have been able to get this close to her. Diggle would’ve taken care of him the second he had a lead on the guy, without question our hesitation. Which meant Felicity and all of her genius hadn’t been able to track him down, despite the fact that he’d been delivering her things. He’d been in her apartment.

“You’re not going home.”

Felicity spluttered at his proclamation. He would have found it adorable in any other situation, but right now he was too wound up, too focused on the safety of the woman he knew he couldn’t live without, to appreciate how cute she could be when she was shocked.

The fact that she now had a stalker who was clever enough to evade Felicity Smoak’s tried-and-true location tactics was likely Oliver’s fault, and the only thing he could think about was how badly he needed to fix it. People with the kind of skills required to successfully keep themselves off of Felicity’s capable radar didn’t just go after unassuming IT girls. No, it was much more likely that someone had discovered her association with the Hood and had set out to hurt her to get to him. It was his greatest fear come to life before his eyes. This was why he’d told her he couldn’t be with someone he could really care about, which she absolutely was. He was a man with a mission which could create so many enemies, so many potential threats to her if anyone were to find out about their relationship.

It killed him that she was already in danger. But he could save her from this one.

“Yes. I am.”

But only if she’d let him, apparently. Okay, he needed to try a different tack with her.

“How secure is your home? When were your locks changed last? The windows?” He’d been so lax with her security. How could he even claim to care for her? He’d known something was going on, and sure, he’d trusted her to take care of her own security. Computer genius, remember? But apparently, that had been a terrible decision. He should’ve taken her safety as his top priority. He hadn’t, and now here they were.

Before Felicity opened her mouth to respond, Bruce cut in, reminding Oliver that he and Diggle will still in the room. Well, at least he could count on John being on his side in all of this!

“The building’s security has been updated. We have cameras and everything,” Bruce assured everyone in the room.

Oliver scoffed. “And obviously those have worked so well.”

“Probably just as well as Queen Consolidated security. Or did you miss the part where this psycho has been in here, too?” Bruce shot back.

As livid as he was, he couldn’t really argue that point. Wayne was right, the stalker had been up here, too. “Diggle, I want the Executive Floor sealed. No one gets up here without our say so. And I want a security sweep done at Felicity’s apartment. Anything we can update, we will.”

Felicity’s hand on his forearm was the only thing that pulled him back from his full-on panic mode. Softly, but forcefully, she spoke, “Okay. You need to calm down.”

He was in awe of her. She had every right to continue her freakout. There was a madman messing with her head, threatening her, and she’d rightfully lost her cool. But the second Oliver lost his, she screwed her head back on straight to pull him out of his spiral. He should be the one comforting her, not the other way around. But, he couldn’t help it. The thought of something happening to her had him panicked with the need to ensure her safety. If there was anything he could do, anything he could buy, anyone he could maim to keep her out of harm’s way, he’d do it without hesitation. Felicity Smoak had become Oliver Queen’s oxygen; there was no him without her.

“I’m going home. I’ll be fine there.” She palmed his cheek, her fingers lightly scratching in his stubble before she yanked her hand back, like her limb had acted without her authority. He immediately leaned toward her, missing the connection between them, however brief it had been, but her next words stopped him dead. “Obviously, nothing is happening until Thanksgiving anyway, so logically it’s perfectly fine for me to go home.”

It bothered him, how flippant she made that remark. Like it was okay that some psycho wanted to hurt her. Like she expected him to leave her alone until Thanksgiving now that he’d given her a deadline. And worst of all, it sounded like she thought it was inevitable, that he’d already won, that Thanksgiving was her deadline, literally, and that she’d accepted it.

Everything in him rebelled. “No. Your safety is not to be taken lightly. I need you to be safe, Felicity. Please, you have to come home with me,” he pleaded with her to let him keep her near him and safe, to not stop fighting.

“I’ll be perfectly safe, Oliver. But I’m not letting this guy force me to stop living my life,” she stated with conviction. 

“Fine,” he acquiesced. “But if you won’t come to the manor, please let me make sure you’re safe.”

She grabbed his hand and the relief he felt at having her back in connection with him is palpable. “Oliver, I will be safe. I promise. Bruce lives across the hall,” she gave him a small glare at his audible scoff before she continued. “The security system is off the charts since he bought the building. It’s fine.”

“That’s not enough for me.” It wasn’t. It obviously hadn’t worked yet, and he’d be damned if he was leaving her protection up to some half-cocked pain-in-the-ass who had only known her a few months. There was another option, but she wasn’t going to like it. “If you insist on going home, I’m coming with you.”

Her eyes widened, mouth dropping open. “That is _not_ how I wanted to take you home with me.”

Oliver ignored the verbal faux pas and the amused smirks shared between Bruce and John, focusing solely on the most important thing: getting Felicity to agree to let him stay with her. “I’ll sleep on your couch. Just, please, let me come stay with you until we get this guy.” It wouldn’t be fun. He’d seen her couch and it was likely only ¾ of him would fit, but it would be worth it for him to only be twenty or so feet away from her at night.

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“Your choice is a full security sweep, a new security system installed, along with new doors and windows, or you can let me stay with you. I will sleep on your fire escape if I have to.” 

She held up her hands in mock surrender. “Okay, okay. I relent, under protest. You can come sleep with me.”

He was fully prepared to let that one go, too, but apparently, she wasn’t. “Oh God! I meant inside my place.” Then she choked. “Not _my place_ , but my place. My apartment! YES! Apartment is the word that goes there.”

He couldn’t describe how it made him feel that her inappropriate babbles were still intact. She couldn’t be too far gone with worry if she was still making sexual innuendos about him, and that was worth more to him than anything else right then. Although, he hoped that she didn’t see the eyebrow waggles that Bruce sent Diggle’s way.

* * *

It was the fear that made her do it. That’s what she was telling herself at least. Fear clouded judgment, made people do rash things, make rash decisions. Decisions like letting your billionaire boss and the city’s resident vigilante come to stay with you in your cramped two-bedroom apartment in a not so great area of the city.

That was the only explanation. It definitely wasn’t that she was completely head-over-heels for Oliver Queen, and that the thought of him sleeping in her spare bedroom, just a wall away from her, using one of her showers, sleeping on some of her sheets, made her heart race and her mind plummet into the gutter. Nope, not at all.

God, what was the matter with her? She shouldn’t be feeling any of these things. Not six hours ago she was bawling her eyes out in her office chair after having been threatened by her stalker du jour. He’d given her a deadline, one week, that rocked her to her core. She’d been terrified, angry, completely skeeved out that some weirdo had been in their office, in her home. The hairs on her arms and neck stood to attention even thinking about it now. 

But, instead of focusing on that, she was now obsessing over Oliver Queen moving in with her. Oh God, when was the last time she cleaned her spare bathroom? Was there anything embarrassing in there he could find? She was pretty sure all of her feminine products and condoms were in her own bedroom and bathroom, so that was a relief. What wasn’t, though, was the fact that Oliver would obviously be spending the nights in her spare bedroom. The bedroom she had painted lime green and orange and decorated with purple bedding, potentially in homage to the Scooby Squad, not that she’d admit that out loud. Ever. This was going to be so embarrassing.

When was the last time she’d washed the sheets in there? The sheets would probably smell like Oliver after he was gone. Maybe she’d never wash that set again.

If she made it out of this, that was. She was pretty confident, despite Oliver, Bruce, and John’s contrary beliefs, that her stalker wouldn’t hurt her until Thanksgiving. It upped the anticipation and worry, and this guy obviously liked his mind games. So much so, that she was sure he wanted to make her squirm for as long as possible. But Felicity, being the stubborn woman she was, refused to give him that satisfaction. She was going to do her best to soak up as many good memories as possible with her friends this week so she could have something to hold onto, just in case they couldn’t stop him in time.

Which is why Oliver was currently driving her insane.

When they left work, he had insisted on her leaving with him and Diggle in the town car. Like that was even remotely a possibility. The rumors that would start from that alone were not worth it, and she’d adamantly refused. Instead, her Mini Cooper had to suffer through a thorough inspection by three dumb men. They’d refused to allow her anywhere near her baby until they had gone over every inch of it with a fine toothed comb, despite _her_ being the person most qualified of the four of them to look over her engine. Boys.

Then, they’d followed her to the mansion. Yes, Oliver’s mansion. Because she wasn’t allowed to be alone, and if Oliver was staying with her, he needed clothes. Obviously, he couldn’t just walk around naked. Well, he could. And she would be delighted if he chose to. But, it was unlikely that would happen. 

So she’d sat in her car while he’d gone to pack. She may have had to follow him to the Queen castle, but she sure as hell wasn’t going to go inside. Moira was still on trial for the Undertaking and things were tense in that house, and the last thing she needed was more stress. Plus, Oliver and Thea were in a good place, but she had a feeling that if Oliver showed up with his Executive Assistant in tow and plans to stay with her for the next undetermined period of time, it might put a strain on their relationship. And the last thing she’d ever want was to cause Oliver any more stress or pain. She was already ripping him away from his actual family in a time of crisis, and it was obviously distressing him that she had a stalker. There was no way she was going to cause any more strife.

He’d come back out of the manor with two duffel bags and a garment bag that probably held his suits for the office. Then they were off again, on their way to her apartment.

Her apartment where she, once again, was not allowed to enter until it was cleared by Bruce and John, Oliver having refused to leave her by herself. Instead, Oliver had paced back and forth in front of her, questioning her for every minute detail of her life over the past few months, and getting more and more frustrated with her vague answers. She couldn’t tell him everything. And he knew she was holding something back, he just couldn’t possibly know what. And so he paced, and questioned, probably hoping to trip her up with the barrage of questions. It continued until Bruce and John returned, giving her the all-clear after what felt like an eternity of interrogation, but really was only about twenty minutes.

Since then, Oliver had been doing more pacing. More finger rubbing. She was pretty sure he would be the first person to _actually_ wear a hole in the floor. And it was not helping her mental state.

“Oliver!”

He jumped at her loud voice, apparently not having expected her to use it on him, but she couldn’t help it. Having him acting like a caged tiger was setting her teeth on edge and considering the day she had, she wasn’t kidding when she said she was currently worried about her mental health.

“You need to stop. You’re making my stress worse right now. And that’s seriously saying something.”

She marched over to the table near the door to her apartment and found her keys in the bowl on the table. Grabbing them, she turned back to Oliver, holding them out in front of her, arm aimed at him, keys dangling from her finger.

“You’re going to go to the second floor right now. You’re already in sweatpants and a t-shirt, so you don’t need to change.” Except those sweatpants looked entirely too yummy the way they hugged his hips dangerously lowly; yet another reason she needed him gone. Between her terror and her lust, her brain was too clouded. Her mind was whirring out of her control. She couldn’t focus. She couldn’t think. And thinking was the only way she was going to solve this.

“Gym,” she coughed out, tearing her eyes off the tight cut of the gray t-shirt. “You’re going to go to the gym for at least half an hour and I’m going to take a hot shower and try to relax.”

Oliver tried to protest but she cut him off, “No arguments. Your pacing and your tenseness, they’re keeping me on edge, Oliver. I need you to calm down so I can calm down. That means you going to the gym and working out your frustrations down there so you don’t bring them back up here. I can’t handle this. You like this. Not right now. Don’t make me kick you out to keep my sanity.” Her voice broke near the end of her proclamation, taking some of the ire out of her tone at the end, but it wasn’t until Oliver heard that waver in her voice that the fight drained out of his eyes and he began nodding. 

He crossed the room to where she was standing in just a few steps, curling his hand around the one of hers that held the keys, and he used his grip on it to tug her forward the last little bit until he wrapped her in his arms. She let out a shaky breath against his hard chest, the last of her control going with it. He tightened his hold around her shoulders, then laid his cheek on the top of her head.

“Okay. I don’t like it, but if what you need is for me to be gone right now, I can give you that. But there are conditions. First, we’re going to go around and check all the windows to make sure they’re locked. Second, you’re going to lock the door behind me. I won’t go anywhere until I hear it. Third, you will not open that door for anyone. Not Bruce, not John. Not even me. I have your keys so I have no need to knock. Fourth, anyone knocks on that door, you do not make a sound. You call me immediately and I come running. These are non-negotiable.” He rubbed small circles into her lower back, urging her even closer to him, almost like he was afraid to let her go.

She nodded, knowing he would feel it. The sigh he let out in response blew some of the wisps of hair that had escaped from the messy bun she’d put it in against her forehead. He paused for another moment, then she felt his lips connect with her temple. Before she could register her shock, he’d released her and began moving around her apartment, checking each lock on every window. It wasn’t until he started heading for her bedroom door that she startled herself into motion.

She got to the door just as he was about to open it, throwing herself in front of his path. “No! I’ll check that one, but you can’t go in there. Oliver, please,” she begged when he started to move forward despite her argument. “You don’t understand. My bedroom is my personal space. No one goes in there except for me. Please. I promise, you can stand right here while I go check the window and make sure it’s locked, but please don’t go in there.”

Something in her eyes must have been desperate enough to make him acquiesce, because he backed away from her door and leaned against the hallway wall, crossing his arms, looking at her expectantly. “Well? Go on then.”

She huffed, then opened her door and slipped inside, making sure to leave it open a crack so Oliver could hear her but not enough that he could see inside. It wasn’t that he couldn’t see inside her bedroom so much, but that she was a bit of a slob and there were definitely pieces of lingerie that he’d seen in the pictures she’d anonymously sent him that were strewn around her floor. And _that_ he couldn’t see.

Wow, keeping secrets was exhausting. And this one was going to be taxing her for the rest of her life, assuming Oliver would even want her around that long. 

She ran to her window and put her body weight behind making sure it was down all the way, then slid the two locks at the base into place. Then she called out to Oliver, “Okay! It’s locked!”

“You’re sure?” Oliver called back.

She rolled her eyes and struggled to keep the sarcasm out of her voice. “Yes. I’m sure.”

Then she headed back to where he was waiting for her just outside her bedroom door, making sure to open the door just enough for her to slip through yet again.

“Okay,” Oliver said, motioning her to follow him, keeping his eyes on the closed door behind her for just a second longer, curiosity plainly evident in his gaze. Then Felicity trailed behind him as he made his way to her front door.

He opened the door, stepped outside, then turned back to look at her. “I have my cell phone.” He held it up so she could see. “And your keys. There is no reason for that door to open until I get back.” He looked worried, and she could tell he was holding himself back from reneging on their deal. 

“It won’t. I promise. I’m just going to take a shower then watch TV for a few minutes. Come back when you’ve worked off some of that tension, okay?” She punctuated her point with a few light taps to his chest, hoping to ease the mood with a bit of levity. It didn’t work. Oliver just grunted, then pulled the door shut.

“Lock it behind me,” she heard him from behind the door. She slid the two deadbolts firmly into place. And if she triple-checked them, well, no one would know except her and with the day she’d had, no one would blame her if they did. She raised up onto her tiptoes to peer out the peephole, watching Oliver walk away. 

She turned her back to the door and leaned against it for support, taking a few deep breaths, allowing herself to relish in the quiet, Oliver-free apartment. Now she could just worry about how she was handling the day, rather than trying to keep herself and Oliver together, too. And she had just the idea.

She made her way back through her bedroom door and into her bathroom, where she plugged the drain in her tub and began the hot water running. While the tub was filling, she went back into her bedroom and found the box underneath her bed that held a variety of candles. Grabbing a few out of the box along with the lighter, she returned to the bathroom, set the candles up around the tub and lit them. Then, she grabbed some bubble bath and Epsom salts from under her sink and poured them into the bath, too. She flipped the lights out, the only illumination coming from the lit candles surrounding the bathtub. Stripping out of her clothes, then ensuring she had both of her cell phones within arm’s reach, she let herself slide into the bubbly warmth.

At first, she just laid there, letting the heat seep into her muscles, waiting for it to draw her tension away. After five minutes, it wasn’t working. She couldn’t get her mind to turn off and just enjoy. She was worried about her stalker, she was worried about Oliver living with her, but mostly, she was focused on the slumped shoulders Oliver had when she’d observed him through the peephole walking away from her door. She was worried she’d really hurt him by forcing him out of the apartment. He hadn’t shown it, but he was good at clouding his emotions from everyone, even her. She wouldn’t be able to relax thinking that she’d caused him any pain lashing out in the stress of her day.

She grabbed her phone to text him. And then. She grabbed the other one instead.

**9:12 P.M.: Hey handsome.**

And then she waited.

* * *

He was mid-way through a set of pull ups when he heard the phone ring its special tone. His Mystery Girl was texting him. And for once, he didn’t feel that pull of excitement in his stomach that he normally did knowing she was texting. He just felt drained. He could only think of the woman upstairs who held his heart, the woman who was stressed to the extreme after her horrible day, and then his very presence just made it worse. He made it so bad for her that she’d used her loud voice to get him to leave her be.

On second thought, maybe he would talk to his Mystery Girl. A virtual relationship was better than no relationship, and if it stayed virtual, then he couldn’t hurt her like he’d hurt Felicity today.

He finished his set quickly, doing another six pull-ups in rapid succession, before letting himself drop from the bar in the dingy little gym and making his way over to where he’d placed his phone by the wall of mirrors. He pulled up her message and tapped out his curt response.

**9:14 P.M.: I’m not the best company right now, even over text. Apologies in advance.**

The three dots popped up almost immediately letting him know she was typing her response.

**9:14 P.M.: I don’t need the best company. I need urs. I’ve had a terrible day. Please talk to me. Distract me.**

Maybe Thursday was just a completely shitty day in general for everyone. Regardless, he was in no state to make anything better for her. 

**9:14 P.M.: I can’t make anything better for anyone. Not even my friends.**

**9:15 P.M.: I’m sure that’s not true. I’m your friend and you’re about to help me.**

He couldn’t help her. He couldn’t help anyone, not even the most important someone. His Mystery Girl had no idea of the darkness that lived inside of him. To her, he was just Oliver Queen: sexy billionaire who had returned from five years on Hell with a more serious demeanor. She had no idea that he’d killed people, that he was a person feared by the most fearsome people on the streets of Starling City, that he spent his nights hopping around buildings dressed in leather clutching a bow and arrow. And maybe that was what he needed right now. Someone who didn’t know him. A distraction from the complete shadow that had overtaken his life in the last twelve hours.

He was about to respond to her when the three dots popped back up followed by her next message.

**9:15 P.M.: Maybe you just need to relaaaax.**

He could almost see her smile as she drew out the last word, but the smile he saw belonged to the girl upstairs. He just couldn’t help himself. She was on his mind. She was always on his mind. He rubbed his fingers and thumb together as he remembered there were currently three floors between them right now. She was in danger, and even being in danger, she didn’t want him around. Not that he could blame her. But being this far away from her set him on edge. It went against every single instinct he had. Hence the ten sets he’d been doing for each of his workouts. He needed to keep himself busy down here so he wouldn’t run back up to check on her. He needed the distraction.

**9:16 P.M.: I’m less of a relax kind of guy, more of a hit something kind of guy. Hence the gym I’m currently at.**

**9:17 P.M.: Ew. That’s the worst method of trying to relax that I’ve ever heard.**

She was always so contrary with him and he secretly loved it. It didn’t matter to her that he was broody, she always had something in her back pocket to cheer him up. Even if it was arguing with everything he said. 

**9:17 P.M.: Well, what would you recommend instead?**

**9:18 P.M.: I have a number of tried and true methods for inducing relaxation. First, food coma. Just go eat a bunch of food, preferably ice cream, and u’ll pass right out. No better relaxation than sleep.**

He couldn’t help but smile at that. He picked up the bottle of water that he’d purchased from the vending machine and took a few gulps. Then, he started typing out that he wasn’t really a sweets kind of guy, but another message of hers came through almost immediately.

**9:18 A.M.: Second, masturbation. Don’t laugh! Flicking the bean usually tires me out enough and relaxes me.**

Thank God he’d swallowed the swig of water he’d taken right before he’d looked at that message or he would’ve definitely had to clean off the mirrors in the gym. Immediately, he’d pictured Felicity laying on her bed in one of those sexy lingerie sets, her fingers dipping low into a set of lacy panties, bringing herself to the brink and over the edge. 

Needless to say, he did a few more sets before he picked the phone back up again to deal with his growing issue. Luckily, his muscles were screaming at that point, so the extra repetitions did their job effectively. When he picked his phone back up he saw he had more messages from her.

**9:19 P.M.: Third, bubble bath. Super relaxing and warm. Some of the only romantic settings I get in my life. Also known as what I’m doing right now.**

**9:19 P..M.: But exercise is the worst idea, Mr. Queen. Exercise produces endorphins and adrenalin, both things that keep you up rather than help you relax or fall asleep. I refuse to believe you’re actually exercising right now. It’s a terrible idea and you’re smart enough to know that it doesn’t help you sleep.**

See? Things like that made him think of his Girl Wednesday. The perfect mix of science and teasing judgment, in a way he’d only found Felicity Smoak to be capable of. He quickly texted her back.

**9:27 P.M.: You want proof? I’ll give you proof.**

He opened the camera application on his phone and looked into the mirror, snapping a quick photo of himself in the gym, the t-shirt he was wearing covered in sweat, along with his face and arms, too, with some of the exercise equipment visible in the background. He attached the picture to a text message and sent it off with the message:

**9:29 P.M.: I’m going to want some reciprocation of the bubble bath. Plus, I’m interested to see what you deem to be a romantic setting that you set up for yourself.**

A minute later a picture came through. She was obviously in her bathtub by the angle that the picture was taken; it was a straight-on view of the faucet of her tub. He could see a glass of wine in her hand, and peeking up through the layer of bubbles covering the water was a single, smooth knee, highlighted by the light in the room. The lights were apparently dimmed in the bathroom to a low-level, and the majority of the light appeared to be coming from some candles that had been set up around the perimeter of the tub, giving off a decidedly romantic glow against the white tiles in her bathroom. He could imagine sliding into the warm, bubbly water, settling himself behind Felicity, pulling her back into his chest. The picture in his mind was so vivid that he could almost feel the sensation of his cock nestling itself between the cheeks of her spectacular ass and the slick of her skin damp from the water and the bubbles as he would run his hands over her body.

It was only another message coming through from her that pulled him out of his heavenly daydream.

**9:30 P.M.: Remember when I said I needed a distraction? You better reciprocate.**

He quickly snapped another picture of himself at the gym and sent it her way. This was working. She was definitely providing the pick-me-up that he needed to make it through the rest of the night, so what if it was because through her he felt like he was talking to his Felicity again. Not the scared for her life version that had kicked him out of her apartment earlier. The one who lit up the darkest corners of himself.

**9:32 P.M.: That’s two pics of me and only one of you. I need a distraction, too. Maybe fewer bubbles.**

He forced the cheer and flirting into his text message even though he wasn’t actually feeling it. Felicity had once told him that if you make yourself smile even when you’re depressed it results in an uptick in your mood biologically. He figured if he forced himself to be flirty with his Mystery Girl, it would keep his cover intact as carefree playboy with her and maybe give him a boost that he would need to keep himself under control so when he made it back up to Felicity’s apartment she wouldn’t kick him out again. He was itching with the need to keep her safe, and he couldn’t do that from down here.

The picture he received in response wasn’t one he was expecting. He thought she’d just snap another quick picture of her in the tub, but instead, she’d sent one of the more professional-looking shots that she’d obviously had taken. Or was it? Gone was the typical lingerie, exchanged for what appeared to be a run-of-the-mill pair of white cotton panties cupping her full ass which was in the foreground of the picture. She lay face-down on plain white sheets, her back completely bare save for the hint of a tattoo on her right hip just above the line of her panties. The photo was grainy and semi out of focus, so he couldn’t make out what the tattoo was. But he knew that he’d seen this piece of her body in other photographs and there wasn’t a tattoo there. Sneaky. Just a peek of blonde hair was visible in the top of the frame. It was a gorgeous shot, definitely, but it was so unlike the other lingerie shots. There was something off about the pictures tonight, something niggling in the back of his mind that he couldn’t shake. Like he’d noticed something that was just out of reach.

Then another message from her came through, distracting him from his train of thought.

**9:34 P.M.: How’s that for fewer bubbles?**

Cheeky. It reminded him of why he enjoyed talking to her so much. No strings, no pressure, no stress. Just talking and harmless flirting with a friend who liked to send him sexy pictures. It was probably the only uncomplicated thing in his life at the moment.

**9:35 P.M.: Better. So what’s got you needing a distraction tonight?**

Maybe helping Mystery Girl with her issues would give him some insight into helping him solve Felicity’s. Or at the very least make him feel like he did something right lately. 

**9:38 P.M.: Just life being crappy. You?**

And just like that his hopes deflated. Evasive and vague as always. They had personal conversations, but she was always so generic about everything that anything she said could almost apply to anyone. They talked about their families and she gave him “Dad’s not in the picture. Mom’s crazy.” They talked about hopes and dreams and he got “Someday I’d like to own my own business. Maybe I’ll hit you up for some tips on running a company some day.” No names, no personal touches. He didn’t even know what industry she worked in. She was always so controlled in everything she sent him, so careful to not give him any hint about her identity. Who was he kidding? How could he expect anything less from a girl who changed her hair color and added fake tattoos in the pictures he sent him?

Suddenly he was exhausted from it all. All of the games, all of the tiptoeing, all of the lies and omissions. He was bone-weary. He realized then that all he really wanted to do was to go back upstairs and keep Felicity company, keep her safe and hopefully keep her sane. He’d needed the workout to get his head on straight, to cope with all of the stress of the day, but now? Now he wanted someone who knew all of him and wanted to be his friend anyway. He wanted to hang out and watch Doctor Who with his tech goddess upstairs, which he knew she would love and he would, too. He always felt closer to her when he watched her favorite TV show, he could only imagine how much it might help both of them to unwind after the day they’d had.

He typed out his quick reply to Mystery Girl.

**9:40 P.M.: Friend troubles. I need to get back, actually. Staying with a friend for as long as she’ll allow me.**

* * *

And cue the immediate panic. She was still naked in her bathtub and Oliver was going to head back up here! He’d know that she’d taken a bath. Showers did NOT take this long no matter who you were. And she’d sent him a picture of her in the bathtub! Think, think, think. She needed to stall him.

The stroke of brilliance hit and she finger-pecked another message to him.

**9:41 P.M.: Wait! If you’re going to leave me hanging, at least send another pic for distraction purposes.**

And distraction purposes it was. Just not the kind she implied in the text. She needed him distracted so she could get ready and erase all traces of what she’d been doing.

She quickly jumped out of the tub, blew out the candles, and toweled off as fast as she could. Grabbing a hair tie from her drawer, she threw her hair up into a top knot as she ran into her bedroom naked, muttering to herself as she hurried about her room grabbing shorts and a t-shirt, “Frakking Oliver Queen staying with me. Oh yeah, the Hood is about to catch me naked. Wonderful.”

She pulled on the shorts and the t-shirt; no time for a bra or panties! She chanced a quick look in the mirror to confirm she wasn’t hideous and then grabbed the phones from the floor beside the tub where’d left them. She quickly checked the picture she’d received planning to check the timestamp to see how much time she had left.

But she stopped dead when she opened the picture. He’d sent her two gorgeous pics of sweaty t-shirts Oliver Queen. But now? He’d removed the shirt. And sent her a picture of his back. His sweaty, muscular, _perfect_ back. She quickly forwarded that pic to her normal, personal cell phone so she could look at it whenever she wanted. The temptation was too great and she was only human after all.

She wasn’t sure how she felt that he was comfortable enough in their textual relationship with a girl he thought he’d never met that he would send a shirtless picture, showcasing some of the worst of his scars. They didn’t bother her, she’d seen them before and still thought the man belonged shirtless on the cover of every magazine. But for him to so openly share that piece of himself with someone he’d never met? That was a big deal. And she wanted to make sure she handled it in the best way possible for him. He was opening himself up to a stranger, and she needed to react properly. How should she react? Well, not _her_ her. Anonymous messaging girl her. She knew this would be important to him. Maybe he hadn’t realized what he’d done yet, the emotions of the day were running high after all, but he’d realize it eventually. And whatever she sent had to reflect acceptance. She pondered it for a minute while staring at the sexy wall of muscle on her screen then tapped out her reply.

**9:43 P.M.: The gym does your body good. That back is unfairly hot. Perfect, really.**

That should work, right? It was appreciative and let him knew his scars didn’t detract from any of his splendor. And splendor it was. She took another few seconds to burn that rippling goodness into her mind, her core clenching at the thought of how those bulges would feel under her fingers as she ran her nails down his back with him on top of her.

When she heard the rattling of keys at the door, she dropped her burner cell phone onto her bed and clutched her normal cell to her chest as she bolted out into the living room. Luckily, she always kept the remotes in the same place and she was able to switch the TV on quickly as she plopped down onto the couch. Well, maybe it was luck combined with the fact that she had a few keys on her key ring and he probably didn’t know which one to use. She arranged herself so that she looked like she’d been sitting there awhile. 

She’d just gotten comfortable when Oliver walked in.

* * *

Which key was it? He’d had to try at least three before finding the correct one to let himself back into Felicity’s apartment. When he finally got the door to open, he was greeted by the sight of her curled up on the couch watching some kind of TV program about space, her eyes meeting his when she heard the door open.

He felt a pang in his chest at the pure domesticity of the event. The scene laid out before him was one he’d never realized he wanted. Coming home, opening the door, and seeing a completely comfortable, makeup-free, gorgeous woman waiting for him to join her. It was perfect. Or maybe that was just her. He wanted to come home every day to find _this_ woman curled up on _their_ couch, waiting to share her night with him. He wanted it desperately.

He couldn’t have it. She wasn’t his.

She sat up, probably in reaction to the weird look he was certain he was giving her. His eyes strayed to her form and then snapped back up to her face in panic. She didn’t seem to have any idea that her wet hair had dripped down onto her white t-shirt, letting him see two stiff peaks clearly. He needed to get out of there. Now.

“I’m - uh - I’m just gonna go,” he jerked his thumb at the hallway, “uh - shower.”

She just nodded her head at him. He turned and raced down the narrow corridor to escape the scene so he wouldn’t go and confess that she was everything he’d ever wanted, take her into his arms, kiss her, and make love to her like that she would be his salvation. He’d worship every inch of her body, making sure to take his time getting to know every piece of her, including those two visible pebbles under her shirt. 

Cold shower. Definitely.

After at least twenty minutes under the freezing spray, Oliver still didn’t have enough relief, but he had successfully regained control of himself. He changed into a new pair of sweatpants and a new t-shirt, making sure to toss his dirty clothes into the spare bedroom where he would be staying. Then he padded back out to the living room.

Felicity’s blue eyes looked up at him in question when he entered, and then patted the space next to her on the sofa. He was powerless to resist, and he lowered himself into the spot where she’d patted. 

“I’m sorry that I was so wound up. I just - I can’t stand even the possibility of you getting hurt, Felicity. And it drove me a little crazy,” he explained, unable to meet her eyes as his cheeks reddened slightly. He refused to call it blushing. It wasn’t. It was just warm in the room. Despite the cold shower.

“Hey,” she said softly, grabbing his hand and lacing her fingers with his. “It’s okay. It’s been a rough day for both of us. I think we both just needed a little relaxation time after the big reveal. I’m sorry that I had to lay this all on you.” She gave his hand a little squeeze.

He squeezed back and took a deep breath to keep himself calm. “I’m not. I’m glad you told me, Felicity. I wish you had trusted me enough to tell me earlier.” He absently played with her fingers, flexing his hand in hers, letting their fingers slide against one another. “I just want to keep you safe, that’s all I’ve ever wanted. I need you to know that.”

“Oh, Oliver. It was never about me not trusting you. Ever.” She tightened her hold on his hand again and gave it a slight tug, urging him to look at her. When he met her eyes, he could see nothing but the truth reflected back. “You just have so much going on with your mother, and Thea, and the company being in trouble. Hell, you have _that_ evil woman to deal with. I just didn’t want to burden you with any of my junk. You have enough to worry about without adding me to the mix.”

His blue gaze held hers, willing her to see the sincerity in his own as he spoke, “Felicity Smoak. Your safety is important to me. You are important to me. I don’t care what else is going on in our lives, you are always the priority. Okay?”

He saw her visibly gulp at his words. He took a page from her book and tugged on her hand until she’d altered her position and was shoulder-to-shoulder with him on the couch. He released her fingers and wrapped her in his embrace instead. “Can we watch Doctor Who just like this?”

She let out a slight cough of surprise, looking up at him from where her head had settled in the crook of his neck, before she nodded and pulled up Amazon Prime Video on her TV. She found the seasons of Doctor Who quickly, like she’d navigated there a million times (and she probably had), then questioned him, “So, tell me where you’re at now.”

He described the most recent episode that he’d seen to her and she let out a little squeal, babbling about how he was going to love what was coming next, and how the story arc was one of her all-time favorites. He shifted her in his arms slightly, making sure they were both comfortable for the long haul of a marathon they were in for.

As she started up the series, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to the crown of her head, inhaling her citrusy scent. It was a complex smell, not like pink grapefruit or oranges. It had a tangy quality to it that he couldn’t place, but it was addicting. 

Then it hit him like a freight train: the thing that had been bugging him all night about the pictures his Mystery Girl had sent him! The picture of her in the bathtub had been sexy and candlelit and romantic, but it had been something else, too. It had a bottle in it, her body wash. 

And for the first time since they’d begun this little text-adventure, Oliver Queen had a personal detail about his Mystery Girl, even if he had no clue as to the brand or scent, it was more than he’d ever had before, and he would absolutely make the most of it.

But not tonight. Tonight, Oliver had Felicity Smoak cuddled up next to him on her couch and he wasn’t going to waste another second of that time thinking about anyone other than the brilliant, wonderful woman in his arms.

Three hours, three-and-a-half episodes, and four head kisses (yes he had counted, sue him) later, Felicity was conked out.

He never thought he’d ever be thankful for a time when Felicity Smoak was quiet, but right now, he was. She was asleep. When they’d originally curled up together on her couch, she’d been bursting with a palpable, nervous energy, despite the so-called relaxing shower, and he’d been worried that the stress of the day would prevent her from getting any real rest. But, if the head currently lulled on to his chest was any indication, she would be sleeping like a baby tonight.

He’d already made the executive decision that they weren’t going to the office tomorrow, despite tomorrow being Friday. Yesterday had been trying for everyone, and he wasn’t sure that her going back there so soon would be a good idea, at least not for her emotional health. And the new security measures he’d ordered for the Executive floor wouldn’t be put in until the weekend, and the idea of her stalker potentially having access to the floor while she was there for even one more day was unacceptable to him. 

Remembering the terrible neck pain he’d had the day after he woke up on this couch last time, he knew that there was no way he could sleep on this couch again. And he couldn’t let her do it, either.

Gently, so as not to wake her, he supported her head with his hand as he moved out from underneath her, then slowly lowered her back down onto the couch. He reveled in a chance to observe her without having to worry about keeping his every emotion closed off from his face. Everything about her just drew him in. Her pouty lips, button nose, and dark eyelashes resting against her cheek screamed perfection. He thought he preferred her like this, face devoid of any makeup, the only color in her lips there from biting them rather than the painted-on pinks. He loved those, too, to be sure. But there was something about seeing her like this that was so precious and intimate, and he adored every second that she allowed him into her world.

Hopefully they would catch the guy who was stalking her, but part of him selfishly hoped that it took them a bit so he could have the excuse to stay with her longer. He knew it was wrong on so many levels, and he really did want to catch the guy and have her out of danger immediately, but a tiny sliver of his mind told him that it wasn’t so bad if it took them just another day as long as he got to experience this again.

Having decided that spending any more time staring at her was bordering on creepy levels, he sighed, then leaned down and pulled her into his arms, carrying her bridal style down the hall. She nuzzled her face into his chest and inhaled deeply, so deeply that he thought she might have woken up, but she didn’t, and he continued carrying her toward her door.

He was about to turn the knob when he remembered her reaction from earlier that night when he’d gone to check her window. Her room was her sanctuary, and he was positive she didn’t want him to enter it without her permission. And he would never cross a line like that. 

His arms swayed back and forth as he tried to coax her out of her slumber lightly. “Hey,” he whispered into the darkness. “Hey, Felicity. Wake up, honey. Wake up.”

He peered down at her in his arms, unable to stop the grin from breaking out across his face as she scrunched her eyes together tight, trying to fight consciousness. The way her nose crinkled up was the single cutest thing he’d ever seen. He continued the soft shaking until she opened her eyes, immediately meeting his.

“Hi,” she breathed. “You’re carrying me to my bedroom? That’s new. Normally Dream Oliver and I just begin in bed.”

He chuckled. “Hate to break it to you, but I’m not Dream Oliver, so yes, I’m carrying you to bed.”

Her eyes widened, and he could see the panic in her blues. “I said, in the lair. Right? Doing vigilante things. In the lair. Vigilante-ing. Not, uh, what?”

Deciding to let her off the hook, he set her down on her feet, making sure she was steady by holding lightly onto her waist. “I would have just put you in bed without waking you up, but I remembered that you said your room was your place, and I wanted to respect that. So, here you are.”

He tugged her slightly forward into his arms again, unwilling to let her go to bed without stealing at least one more hug. He wrapped one arm around her back and cradled the back of her head with his other. After a beat or two, he released her just far enough that he could look into her eyes. Bringing his hand up, he pushed the flyaways that had pulled out of her ponytail holder back from her face, then trailed his fingers down her cheek before cupping her head and bringing her forward again. He pressed his lips firmly to her forehead, promising, “We’re going to get this guy. I’m going to make sure you’re safe. Okay?”

She hugged him a little bit tighter at that and nodded. “Thanks for being here for me, Oliver. Having you here helps.”

With that, she pushed herself up on her toes, still clutched in his embrace, and placed her lips tentatively against his cheek.

Then they were gone, and only the fire from where they’d touched his skin remained. 

“Good night, Oliver. Sweet dreams”

“‘Night Felicity.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there you have it! Don't forget to leave some love! 
> 
> You may have noticed that there are quite a few pictures mentioned in this chapter. And yes, all of the photos that inspired this chapter are available on the [Pinterest Board](https://www.pinterest.com/thebookjump1732/picture-perfect/) that I've created this story. Don't forget, these are just _inspiration_ for the pictures, so there may be details incorrect or not pictured based on the description in the story.
> 
> Also, I posted two Sneak Peeks for this chapter, and I'll post more Sneak Peeks for the next chapter over on my [Tumblr: @thebookjumper](http://thebookjumper.tumblr.com) so go follow me and ask to be tagged in the updates and sneak peeks for Picture Perfect over there!
> 
> You guys are fantastic.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. I am SO sorry that it has taken me this long to update. Seriously, there aren't enough apologies in the world. If you follow me on Tumblr, you know a little bit about all of the ridiculousness that has been my real life over the last five or so months. For those of you who don't, here's a quick summary: multiple illnesses in my family, my engagement, subsequent failing at planning a wedding, quit my job, haven't found a new one, moved across the country, and am studying to take another bar exam... again...
> 
> It's been a doozy, folks.
> 
> Honestly? If not for @olicitysmoaky and @missyriver, I don't know that I would have a new chapter for you, yet. Those two are the BEST.
> 
> But enough about me! Let's get onto why you're really here, shall we?!

# Picture Perfect

### Chapter 17

Oliver jolted awake to a banging on the door. He groaned, rolling over to grab his phone off of the nightstand. The nightstand that wasn’t where it was supposed to be. Odd.

He paused, looking around at the bright orange walls of the room he was sleeping in, knowing that Moira would never have allowed such a bright color to adorn the walls in the Manor. Especially not with green trimming and purple accents. Only one person he knew would have a room like this. Felicity.

His brain struggled to catch up. His mind replayed the previous night for him: finding her on the couch wearing a t-shirt and no bra, spending the night holding her and watching Doctor Who surrounded by her scent, the kiss she’d branded his cheek with at the end of the night. He even remembered thinking how desperately he wanted all of this for the rest of his life.

He’d stayed the night at Felicity’s.

Because she had a stalker. A stalker who had been in their office, _in her home_ without them realizing it. One who had made a serious threat against her just yesterday.

And now someone was pounding at her front door.

Immediately alert, Oliver jumped up out of bed and rushed to the door. He was about to look out the peephole when the perpetrator spoke, announcing his identity.

“Felicity? You better be in there. I went to QC and they said you called off today. Come on, I need your help!”

Bruce Wayne.

Fuck that guy. Who did he think he was harassing Felicity this early in the morning after the stressful, draining day she’d had the previous day? Sure, they worked together on the team-up with Queen Consolidated and Wayne Enterprises, and maybe they were becoming something friend-like (Oliver grudgingly admitted this to himself, as much as he despised the notion), but the man needed to understand boundaries and learn to be respectful of Felicity’s space. 

Seriously, who buys a building because their work colleague has a stalker? So, maybe Oliver would have done the same thing, but it was completely different. Felicity was actually his friend, and they were partners at more than just QC. And more than just at the Arrow cave, too. Bruce Wayne couldn’t touch the level of friendship Oliver had with Felicity.

He threw open the door, only relishing in the startled look on Bruce’s face for a second or two before he growled out, “What could you possibly want, Wayne?”

A sneer overtook Bruce’s features and before Oliver knew what hit him, Bruce did. Literally. Punched him in the jaw. 

The man could hit. That packed much more of a punch than Oliver would have expected the cushy one percenter in front of him was capable of.

Bruce followed it up with a scathing, “How dare you take advantage of Felicity after the day she had yesterday! What the fuck kind of person screws the emotionally vulnerable girl that he claims to actually regard as a friend? How could you?!”

And now, Oliver was confused. Bruce thought he’d slept with Felicity last night? What the hell could have given him that idea? Oliver rubbed his hand over his jaw where Bruce’s fist had landed. Just as he was about to respond that Bruce was insane, and that he very much had not slept with Felicity last night, the woman herself made an appearance.

“What is going on out here?” She questioned them, rubbing her eyes to remove the sleep-induced haze. When she finally opened them completely, they widened and her mouth dropped. It was only then that Oliver looked around to see what had stunned her. She was staring at him, after all, so it had to be something on his clothes. He looked down at himself.

Oh. 

In his haste to get to the door, Oliver hadn’t really considered his state of dress. Or undress, as it happened to be. Since returning from the island, Oliver had not picked up any of Ollie’s old habits again, save one. There was far less drinking, fewer women, and no peeing on cop cars. However, Oliver had once again started sleeping in the nude at the mansion, and now it felt weird to him to have clothes on during sleep. He hadn’t wanted to sleep completely naked at Felicity’s, though, just in case she’d needed something during the night, so he’d made sure to wear his boxers to bed. But only his boxers.

That explained a lot, actually.

But the look in Felicity’s eyes right now sent heat searing through his body. She looked _hungry_. There wasn’t a better word for it. She looked like she’d been deprived of food for three weeks and she had just stepped inside Big Belly Burger. She was biting her lip, her pupils dilated until only the barest hint of the stunning blue could be seen, and her eyes were fixated somewhere decidedly below his face. 

Seeing her appreciative stare forced the lust he felt for her straight to the surface. He took in every inch of her. Her hair was wild and untamed, likely from tossing and turning throughout the night, but it looked like someone had spent the night running their fingers through it, gripping onto it, messing it up in the best of ways. She was still in the white t-shirt, which had dried, _thank God_ , and short shorts from the night before. He didn’t know if he could have resisted throwing her over his shoulder and carrying her to the closest available horizontal surface if the view had been the same as the one he’d returned to last night. Hell, it didn’t even need to be horizontal, he could do vertical. The wall was closer anyway.

She was a dichotomy. A sinful angel. An innocent temptress.

Want seared through his abdomen as he watched her. She was absolute perfection. Seeing her like this, seeing what his view could be every morning if only he’d allow himself to take it, he could not fathom how he’d ever had himself convinced that he didn’t love her.

Because he did. This unintentionally seductive, brilliant, perfect goddess had wormed her way into his heart so deep that to remove her would end him. 

What had he been thinking, keeping himself away from her? Here she was, currently in danger, regardless of the fact that he’d kept her at arm’s length, never allowing their relationship to move beyond friendship, partnership, into something much more satisfying. He’d denied himself and her, and for what? His ploy hadn’t worked. There had been a threat to her _for months_ despite their distance.

No, the enforced distance had only hurt her. Maybe if he’d allowed himself to take what he desired, to really be with her, she would have told him. He could have been with her every step of the way, curling up next to her at night, holding her if she had a nightmare, making love with her in the mornings, reminding her that she wasn’t alone in this, that she never would be.

Instead, he’d denied himself, pushed her away, and as a result, she hadn’t told him about her stalker and the man had been inside her apartment. Possibly even with her there!

He was done. Absolutely done with pretending that they didn’t both want the same thing. He couldn’t deny it any more.

The need to tell her bubbled up from within him, and he took a step toward her, causing her eyes to snap to his.

Hers immediately shifted from hunger to panic at seeing his advance.

“Whoa. Okay, you two definitely did not sleep together last night. Not if those looks are any indication. Sorry for the sock to the chin, man.”

Oliver deflated hearing Bruce’s voice. He’d completely forgotten the man was there in the wake of his self-revelations and his avid appreciation of Felicity. There was no way he was going to let Bruce Wayne be spectator to his prostrating himself in front of Felicity and begging her forgiveness for all of the ways he’d wronged her and for her to give him a chance.

He sighed and tore his gaze from Felicity, who did the same, rounding her glower at their third-wheel.

“You did _what_?” Even Oliver winced at the appearance of Felicity’s loud voice. At least it wasn’t directed at him this time.

She turned her attention back on him and he was glad to see the panic from before was replaced by concern. She crossed to him from the hallway, coming to stand directly before him, and gently reaching her hand up to cup the line of his jawbone. Her fingers lightly traced along the edge where Bruce’s fist had impacted him. Oliver leaned his cheek into her touch, completely not in control of his reactions to her now that he’d opened that floodgate in his mind. Her tender touch warmed him, made him feel cared for. She’d touched him plenty of times, tended to his wounds on almost a weekly basis, but now that he’d admitted exactly what she was to him, it felt different. Important. And he couldn’t stop himself from craving it.

But, his movement brought the panic back into her eyes, and she snatched her hand away from his face like it had burned her. What was with that reaction? He almost voiced the question, but she whirled away from him, turning on Bruce.

“You don’t just go around punching people in the face, Bruce. God, what is the matter with you?”

“I - uh - well, look at him and how he’s dressed. I thought that he took advantage of your vulnerability last night and earned himself another notch on his bedpost,” Bruce replied, stuttering slightly, a testament to the fear that came from what was probably his first encounter with Felicity’s loud voice.

Both of her hands found her hips as she glared disapprovingly at Bruce Wayne, Oliver having moved from behind her to get a better view of this face-off. Fiery Felicity was one of his favorites, and the fact that it was directed at someone other than him for a change meant that he could just sit back and enjoy it.

“So you - what? Think I’m some kind of damsel in distress who would jump into the bed of the first guy offering comfort and safety?” She rolled her eyes at him. “I like to think of myself as having better judgment than that.”

What did she mean by that? Did she mean that she had the good sense to not jump into bed with anyone despite the traumatic day yesterday? Or was she specifically talking about him? Is it bad that he really hoped it was the former and not the latter?

Bruce had the good sense to look sheepish. “You do. That doesn’t mean I wouldn’t put it past him,” he stuck his thumb out over at Oliver, “to try to make a move.”

Felicity just shook her head. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

Bruce leveled her with a strange look, one Oliver didn’t appreciate. It dripped of condescension and made Oliver feel like it was supposed to be an insult somehow, but he wasn’t privy to the silent communication that she apparently understood.

“Don’t, Bruce.”

The man only rolled his eyes and sighed in response. 

“What did you need that you came in here pounding on my door bright and early this morning?” She questioned him, letting whatever the other topic was drop.

This didn’t seem to be a question Bruce wanted to answer now for God only knew what reason.

“I needed some, um, assistance. With a computer that’s causing issues at… work.” He was being squirrelly, his eyes shifting around the room, steadfastly ignoring Oliver’s, and then the same eyes narrowed at Felicity emphasizing the last word.

Felicity was about to open her mouth, but Oliver jumped in. “Felicity’s not working today. I’m sure you can understand why.” No way was Oliver letting Bruce Wayne make Felicity’s life any more stressful than it needed to be, especially in light of everything that had happened yesterday. “I’m sure Wayne Enterprises has plenty of its own IT specialists that can handle whatever computer problems you’re having. Queen Consolidated may be partnering with Wayne Enterprises, but that doesn’t mean you are entitled to ask our employees to assist you with every little thing that goes wrong.”

Where Bruce had initially given Oliver his attention, somewhere in the speech, his eyes had met Felicity’s and they were doing the silent communication thing again. Oliver was really beginning to hate that she was able to communicate that way with Diggle and now Wayne, and that it effectively kept him from knowing what was going on.

He had so hoped that yesterday would be a turning point in their relationship. She’d finally trusted him enough to tell him everything, trusted him with the knowledge and now her safety. They’d agreed that he would be staying here with her at night and that Diggle would be here whenever Oliver couldn’t for family reasons. He thought that meant the end of secrets. Maybe it just meant that he’d peeled one layer back from the mystery that surrounded Felicity Smoak.

With her eyes boring into Wayne’s, he could do nothing but wait for a response.

She shook her head almost imperceptibly, but Oliver was nothing if not observant, especially now with her safety at stake, so he caught the small gesture. Then she spoke again.

“Sorry, Bruce. Oliver’s right. I’m just not feeling up to doing much today still. I’m probably just going to play a bit on my tablet and entertain myself while Oliver goes to the office.”

“I wasn’t going to go in today. You need someone to be with you, Felicity,” Oliver implored her. She couldn’t possibly be serious. He wasn’t going into the office, and even if he was, he definitely wasn’t going to leave her alone.

She turned on him. “No. You’re going into the office today. You have that lunch meeting at noon with Palmer Technologies, and you need it to go well so that we can finally get rid of the Devil wearing Prada.”

In all the turmoil that was yesterday, he’d completely forgotten about having lunch with Ray Palmer today. And Felicity was right, QC needed Palmer to agree to work with them on their battery project to finally get the company out of Isabel’s clutches once and for all. But he couldn’t leave her alone. “Why don’t you come with me to that lunch?”

Bruce opened his mouth like he was about to respond, but Felicity beat him to it. “No way. Sorry, Oliver, but I wasn’t kidding when I said I didn’t feel like doing anything today and that definitely includes putting on makeup and doing my hair. You go to the meeting. And don’t forget that your mother’s trial starts today, too. Jean Loring called yesterday before - well - everything,” her hands made a sweeping gesture filling in with motion what she couldn’t voice.

How had he completely forgotten that? He didn’t know, other than to say his mother had made her own decisions and the consequences would fall where they did, but with everything going on with Felicity, who’d done nothing to deserve the treatment she was getting at the hands of this madman, his priorities had shifted to make sure she was taken care of. His mother was in jail, safe, but Felicity was out here where this crazy person could get to her, and Oliver had shifted his entire focus onto that.

But he knew his mother and Thea would never forgive him if he failed to show for the trial. And despite everything she’d done, Moira Queen was still his mother, and he wanted to be there to support her no matter the outcome.

Thank God for Felicity Smoak’s save.

Oliver nodded. “You’re right, I do need to do those things. I’ll call Diggle to make sure he’s available to come stay.”

“I don’t need a babysitter, Oliver.” 

Of course she didn’t. But she needed someone trained in hand-to-hand combat and with experience with firearms or other weapons to make sure she was safe. They’d never trained Felicity in any of those things, and he would absolutely not leave her completely undefended in case her stalker decided to break in again while she was alone. They had no idea how he’d gotten in before, evading all of Bruce’s security cameras, and there was no way to know if this guy would just assume Felicity was at work and come in and find her here, alone. What could happen to her? A growl escaped him as multiple horrific scenarios raced through his head.

“Don’t get all growly with me, mister. You know I’m right. John won’t be able to be here during the day, either, since he’ll be -- guarding you -- throughout the day,” she looked at him meaningfully as she said those words, reminding him that Diggle was actually going to be handling the search for the drug dealers’ hideout while Oliver was assuming his daytime personality. He didn’t like it, but this drug was costing more and more people their lives every day, and he needed to protect the city, too. So, Digg wasn’t an option, either. Shit. 

“I’ll be fine for a few hours on my own. I’ve been fine for months, it’ll be okay.”

“You can’t guarantee that. And I’m not willing to take that chance. Not when it could mean your safety,” and not when he’d just realized that he loved her and couldn’t tell her. He had to keep her safe and eliminate the threat against her so that he could whisk her off her feet without the shadow of terror clouding over the moment.

“I can stay with you,” Bruce piped in, looking hopefully at Felicity, but she shook her head at the man.

“No, you can’t. You’re supposed to be overseeing the prototype test today. And if I can’t be there, you absolutely have to be.”

For his part, Oliver was torn. He didn’t want to leave Felicity alone, that was for sure. But, he didn’t want to leave her with Bruce Wayne, either. They already had a closeness between them that turned Oliver green, and he absolutely did not want to give any reason for that bond between them to grow, potentially beyond friendship. However, he cared more that she was safe, and if Bruce was what she wanted, then… he would just have to find some way to be okay with that. True, the man didn’t have any protective skills, but he was in decent shape, and he could _definitely_ throw a punch. He would at least be some kind of defense if the stalker decided to show back up. When he woke up this morning, he never would have guessed he would be begging Bruce Wayne to spend more time with Felicity, but here they were.

Before he could, Felicity nailed Bruce with her best glare, the nonverbal equivalent to her loud voice, and the man was practically running out the door. Good to know that look scared everyone, not just Digg and him.

He schooled the amusement off of his face, trading in that look for one of disapproval as she turned her attention back on him. It wasn’t hard; he wanted her safe at all costs. Even the costs of Bruce Wayne. Which now wasn’t going to happen, it seemed.

“Oh, no you don’t. Don’t look at me in that tone of voice.”

And just like that, his cool, collected facade was ruined by a smile. How did she do that when no one else he’d encountered since the island could? Not even his little sister could pull a real smile out of him when he was brooding. But Felicity Smoak defied all rules where Oliver Queen was concerned, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. He couldn’t hold back the sigh that escaped him at realizing that she had won the battle with just that simple comment. 

Holding his hands up in a show of mock surrender to her demands, Oliver began negotiating instead, knowing that, if she accepted him when this all was over, he would likely be doing a lot of this in the future. He couldn’t wait. 

“I don’t like this, Felicity. I need you to stay safe. So, I need you to agree to a few things if you’re going to stay here alone. Okay?” She nodded, looking relieved that she wouldn’t have to fight him.

“Okay. Keep your phone on you at all times. Stay away from the windows. No opening the door. If anything happens, you call me or Diggle immediately. No Arrow business tonight unless Diggle or I come get you and drive you there.” She nodded in acquiescence at him again, but that wasn’t enough for him. He reached out, cupping her cheek in his hand, tilting her head up so she had no choice but to meet his gaze. “Felicity, I need you to promise me, out loud.”

There was a pause as blue met blue, her pupils enlarging just a fraction before she blinked and the tension equilibrated. Stuttering, she complied with his request. “Y-yes. Okay. I promise.”

He started heading back toward her guest bedroom so he could put some clothes on before he had to return to the mansion and get some business and she followed him until she was outside of her door and he was outside of the guest bedroom. He needed to get clothes before his shower. There was no way he was going to make the rookie mistake of forgetting his clothes and walking around Felicity’s apartment in just a towel. Being around her in his boxers was bad enough, especially when she looked all seductively disheveled in the morning, but he had to wait to express his interest until they wrapped up this whole mess, and parading around her apartment in just a towel wouldn’t conceal his appreciation for her. The only reason he wasn’t currently sporting an erection was due to Bruce’s unwelcome presence just a few minutes before.

“I’m coming into the Arrow cave tonight,” she declared, holding up her hand to stop him from contradicting her. “I thought of some more search parameters I could use to maybe get this guy, and setting them up from my tablet isn’t something I can do. It would take hours with such little computing power.”

“Felicity,” he was primed to fight her on it. She didn’t need the added stress of running the missions tonight, but then he recognized what it would mean, her being in the lair tonight. She would be helpful there, she was their best chance of finding this scumbag, and it was probably the safest place in the whole city for her, with only three people knowing of its existence. “We don’t call it the Arrow cave.”

“I do. Sometimes.”

He playfully narrowed his eyes at her. “Just - not to anyone but me, then.”

“Yeah, that’s too late,” she threw a faux-innocent look at him. “What? Diggle’s on board with the name, too!”

He couldn’t even be mad when she looked all adorably tousled like that, her blue eyes wide behind her rectangular frames. He let out an exaggerated sigh and switched the topic. “I’m going to grab some clothes and shower now,” he grinned at her when her eyes swept down his naked torso. Just because he wasn’t going to confess his feelings to her right now, didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy her open appreciation of him.

All too soon, the panic returned to her eyes and she tightened her lips as if she was trying to keep her mouth shut at all costs. When her eyes jolted back up to his to find him watching her, she let out a small squeak and disappeared through her door faster than he had ever seen her move.

He retrieved some clothes from his suitcase, and then walked back out into the hallway. He could hear her muttering to herself from behind her closed door. Small words and phrases made their way to his ears. “Growly Arrow,” “Arrow cave,” and “boss of me” were just a few of the words he caught. He could just picture her pacing in her room, grumbling to herself about how frustrated she was. A small part of him was gratified at how flustered he was capable of making her. If it kept her babbling in front of him, it was a power he hoped to retain for the rest of their lives.

Thirty minutes later, he was showered, his beard trimmed, cologne applied, and dressed in the navy blue suit Jean had requested for the first day of trial. He was just happy he’d remembered to grab it from the mansion last night even though he hadn’t remembered the trial was beginning today. His mother and Jean Loring would have skinned him alive if he’d shown up in anything less than the renowned attorney had demanded for the first impression to the jury.

Ready for the day, he made his way out to the common room to see Felicity sitting on the counter of her kitchen, coffee mug in hand, looking like she was on at least her fourth cup, if the shaking of her hand was anything to go by. He crossed the room to stand in front of her, fixing her with a disapproving stare as he reached up and pried the mug from her hands. She tightened her grip at first, but when he raised his eyebrows at her and looked at the now-empty coffee pot that had to have been full less than twenty minutes ago, she relented as he pulled it from her grasp and set it aside.

“No more coffee.”

She pouted. Bottom lip thrust out and everything. He desperately wanted to lean down and capture that lip between his. Instead, he leaned his forehead against hers. It wasn’t enough, yet it was probably too much all at the same time. One beat. Two. He stood backup, dropping the connection between them.

“I’m going to head to the restaurant for the meeting with Palmer, then to the trial. My phone will be on vibrate in my pocket. It vibrates, I’ll check it. I don’t care what else is going on. If it’s you, I’m there.”

He waited for the babble, but it never came. Instead, she just nodded. He took the win, even if the lack of inappropriate comments disappointed him. “Okay, come on. You have to lock the door behind me.”

Without waiting to see if she would comply, he put his hands around her waist and lifted her from the counter, ignoring the wide-eyed, confused look she was giving him, and set her gently down on the floor, making sure she had her feet under her before he released her and headed to the front door, assuming she would follow. 

He opened the door and stepped through it, turning back to look at her. She was still looking at him like he was a puzzle and she didn’t have all of the pieces: equal parts curiosity and frustration. He repeated the instructions from before, holding his breath to make sure she’d still agree.

He could see she wanted to protest all of the rules, but when she met his serious, pleading gaze, she simply nodded again. The tension thrumming through him eased at her assurance. Stepping back through her door, his hands lifted to the loose curls framing her face. His fingers threaded through them, pushing her hair away from her face as he leaned in and pressed his lips to the crown of her head, taking in the tangy, citrusy scent he’d come to associate with her. 

“Be safe,” he whispered, lips brushing against her skin. Then he backed away quickly and shut the door behind him, waiting to hear the door lock. When he didn’t, he called out a quick, “Lock it, Felicity.” 

Once he heard the lock turn in the door, he was gone. Off to attend to all of his obligations of the day, knowing his mind wouldn’t stray far from the incredible woman he’d just left alone in her apartment.

* * *

Felicity stood frozen by the door for a few seconds.

“Lock it, Felicity,” Oliver’s voice called out from the other side of the steel door between them.

Her hand jolted out, throwing the lock quickly. She heard his steps moving away from the door and she practically threw herself against the door, raising on her toes to look out the peephole only to see that he was no longer there.

What the actual frack had just happened?

Part of her knew her reaction was ridiculous, after all, he’d definitely kissed her head multiple times the night before, but there was something different about this time. It felt… more. Last night she could brush off; she was upset, he was comforting his friend. That’s all. A little odd maybe, but not out of the realm of comforting gestures. And _sure_ , she’d not-so-platonically kissed his cheek before going to bed, but it wasn’t new for _her_ to have romantically inclined feelings for Oliver Queen. The weird thing was to feel them directed back at her from his side of the equation. The way his lips had lingered, the way his fingers had twisted lightly into her hair, felt like something she’d read in Wash/Zoe fanfiction. It was not the way Oliver Queen treated her.

If she didn’t know better, she’d think he was trying to start something with her. Which was crazy; they were unthinkable.

She had definitely not had enough coffee to handle this morning. She wasn’t sure enough coffee _existed_ for her to successfully process everything that had happened this morning, but she was for sure going to try.

Once she’d made another pot and downed one cup of it in her largest coffee mug (one that had thankfully stayed in the same place), her brain was going crazy, and she decided to call in reinforcements.

Grabbing her cell phone, she dialed Kara, and then conferenced in Amy and Veronica. She described every detail of Oliver’s interactions with her this morning, leaving out Bruce’s presence for obvious reasons. It wasn’t like Veronica could know that her boss’s boss was camped out in Felicity’s apartment building.

“What does it mean?” she whined to her best friends. It was apparently the wrong question to ask as each of the Computettes began yelling into the phone at once. Choruses of “he wants you, duh,” and “he’s totally gone for you, babe,” could be heard until finally Felicity screamed, “One at a time!” into the phone.

“Before we tell you that it means he’s completely, totally, head-over-heels in love with you, which it totally does by the way, I have a question,” Veronica, the overly observant voice of reason chimed in. “Why was Oliver Queen in your apartment this morning?”

“What?” Felicity tried to prevaricate, her voice rising in pitch despite her best efforts.

“Don’t give me that shit, Lix,” Kara said. “You need to tell everyone. We’re your friends - we can help!” 

Felicity relented with an “ugh, fine.” She knew her best friend was right, this group of MIT grads would be the people who were the most qualified to help her find her Stalker Ghost, if anyone could. And he had to be a ghost to avoid Felicity’s virtual hunting methods. She’d looked at every CCTV camera near every flower shop in Starling, near QC, and near her apartment and she’d found nothing. She needed all the help she could get if she wanted to survive the week. Thanksgiving was less than a week away now; she had six days to catch this guy and bring him down. Something she hadn’t been able to achieve in months of working on her own.

“Oliver spent the night at my place last night --” squeals interrupted her. She continued louder to drown out the elated exclamations of her friends. “-- to make sure I was safe because I have another stalker.”

There was a beat of silence, then Amy and Veronica erupted.

“How could you not have told us immediately?”

“Don’t you know we’ll always help you, Lix?”

“What the hell?”

When they finally ran out of angry exclamations to throw her way, they quieted down, expecting answers. Felicity proceeded to fill them in, her voice calm while her insides were churning. They were silent until she finished the whole saga with Oliver finding out and staying with her last night to ensure her safety and his reluctance to leave her alone today.

“Okay, girls. We need a plan,” Veronica began organizing them all. “Felicity, obviously not your first time having a stalker. So whatever creeper pheromones you’re putting out there, figure out how to stop it.”

Felicity groaned at her friend’s ribbing. It was an ongoing joke among the group that Felicity had to put out some kind of weird signal to the world that attracted all of the crazy men to her like nectar to butterflies; there was no other way to explain her more-than-fair-share of insane stalkers that followed her around through the years. 

To be honest, she was kind of wondering if it were true. Maybe she should invest in that scent-killing shampoo and bodywash that they made for hunters. Just in case.

“Smart girl like you, I’m sure you at least kept pictures of the evidence: the flowers and anything else weird.” Felicity replied in the affirmative to her friend, Veronica’s take-charge attitude helping to soothe her frayed nerves a bit. Her friends were involved and were here for her. They’d get this solved. “Perfect. Send them to me. Maybe there was something you overlooked because you’re too close to it.”

Felicity pulled up all of the pictures of the various flowers she’d received and sent them via group message to all three women.

While Veronica began investigating the pictures, Kara and Amy began running down the timeline. They asked questions about when things began, where she was when odd things had occurred, prodding her to make sure that Felicity left no details out. Then they moved onto her safety. 

An hour or so later, the girls were all putting the power of their combined degrees and intellect together to hunt down every lead they could, leaving no digital rock unturned. They were content that her building was as secure as it could possibly be at this point, and they absolutely approved of Oliver’s edict that she remain in her apartment and not go anywhere without accompaniment.

Then suddenly, “Oh for the love of… That’s just next-level freaky,” Veronica’s voice interrupted the girls’ focus.

“What is it, V?”

“So, you know how you took pictures of each flower delivery for evidence purposes?” Felicity nodded in response to her friend’s query. Once she’d realized that the bloom-happy psycho was not, in fact, Oliver Queen, but rather yet another stalker to add to her list of unending bad luck, Felicity decided having a record of the deliveries would be auspicious. She hoped from the tone of Veronica’s voice, she was right.

Veronica continued. “Well, the fact that each bouquet was comprised of the same flower and then that the bouquets were different from one another was nagging at me as being odd. So, I took those pictures and used Google’s reverse image search to see what kind of flower each delivery was. Turns out, I was right that it was odd. They all have meanings. Creepy meanings.”

Emphasizing her pronouncement, an e-mail appeared in each girl’s inbox detailing the picture of the flower, the name, and the meaning of each. They ranged from innocuous meanings like _impatience_ for the yellow balsam to flat-out _anger_ for the hepatica blossoms she’d received. Recalling that she hadn’t photographed the first set of flowers, Felicity pulled up their image in her mind and listed a few search terms to find flowers that she recognized. _There._ Oleander. Its meaning? _Be cautious_ , according to a website she located that detailed the meanings of different flower species. Someone had clearly put a lot of thought into sending her messages.

Seriously, the level of detail was staggering. And terrifying. Definitely that, too.

Rationally, she’d known that having a stalker meant that someone was obsessed with her. However, seeing for herself the extraordinary amount of planning involved? Well, it was no wonder that she couldn’t stop shaking.

Soon after that revelation, the girls had immediately formulated a plan of attack, assigned ongoing tasks to each of them, and had scheduled a daily update call. They were not going to let the Thanksgiving deadline get here before they found the creep who was messing with Felicity.

* * *

Oliver fell more in love with Felicity as the day went on. He’d stopped by the office before his meeting with Ray Palmer so he could grab the notes that Felicity had compiled for him prior to heading to the restaurant. On top of the folder, there was a panda post-it that read, “I’m bear-y sure you’re going to do great!” scrawled in Felicity’s loopy cursive, followed by a hand-drawn smiley face. 

His eyes rolled to the top of his head at the pun, but his mouth automatically ticked up into a smile. Only Felicity Smoak would leave him a motivational message in the form of a panda sticky note.

It wasn’t until the meeting took place that he fully understood how invaluable Felicity was to him. The notes were really more like the choose-your-own-adventure books he’d read as a child; different pages were labeled according to arguments that she’d anticipated Palmer would make and had detailed responses shooting down each argument. And they all worked flawlessly. Palmer Tech and Queen Consolidated would be working together as soon as the paperwork could be drawn up by Ray’s lawyers.

It hit him that he likely wouldn’t have survived the meeting without her help. Hell, he likely wouldn’t survive his nighttime activities without her, either. Basically, it all boiled down to the fact that Oliver Queen could not survive without Felicity Smoak. And he was going to do everything in his power to ensure that he wouldn’t have to.

He’d messaged Diggle before he’d entered the meeting informing him that Felicity was at home alone for the day. There was nothing that the two of them could do to avoid their plans, but keeping John apprised of the situation would, at the very least, have John checking his phone more often, upping their reaction time should she raise the alarm.

Oliver definitely wasn’t comfortable leaving her alone, but he had to assuage his worry by reminding himself that Bruce Wayne was more than willing to step in and help Felicity if anything happened. _And at least the man could throw a punch_ , Oliver ran his hand across his jaw, wincing from the tenderness that followed. He’d never admit it to his face, but Oliver was actually pretty impressed by the force Bruce Wayne wielded. That kind of power behind a punch wasn’t something he’d ever come across in a man who hadn’t received some form of military, or island, training, and as far as he knew, Bruce Wayne had neither. 

But, he didn’t have time to dwell on where Bruce Wayne had learned to hit with the force of a freight train. He had to get to the courthouse. As ambivalent as he was about his mother, he would not let Thea go through any of this on her own. Another thing for which he needed to be grateful to Felicity: the reminder of the trial beginning today. He’d never forgive himself if he left his little sister with no emotional support through this.

Just as he was about to turn into the underground courthouse parking lot, his phone chimed Mystery Girl’s ringtone at him, causing excitement to flow through him followed immediately by a sick, twisting guilt. How could he still be overcome with butterflies at receiving text messages from his flirty digital penpal when he’d openly admitted to himself that he loved Felicity? What kind of man did it make him that just her ringtone set anticipation rolling through him despite his resolve to pursue Felicity once she was clear from danger? Was he turning into his father?

Or maybe it was because his mind refused to let go of the far fetched notion that his Mystery Girl and Felicity Smoak were one in the same. However unlikely, he could not shake the eerie similarities he found in Mystery Girl and his partner in vigilantism. From her geeky taste in TV shows to her ability to stand up to him to her propensity for rambling, the parallels between the two women were astonishing. 

It was this line of thinking that had him resolving to continue his messaging liaison with Mystery Girl even though he knew his heart unequivocally belonged with the woman he’d left in her apartment this morning. If there was even the slightest chance that Mystery Girl could be Felicity, he knew he could not let it drop. He had to know, had to follow the intrigue to its end. And if time showed that it was not Felicity at the other end, then he’d break things off. But he wasn’t ready to do that without being absolutely certain.

If instead he discovered it was Felicity, well… His heart leapt at the thought. He had no idea what he would do. Grab her and kiss her? Shake her for sending something so personal over the airwaves where anyone could intercept it? Strip her and observe the expanses of skin he’d fixated on for hours in person instead of on a tiny screen? For validation purposes, obviously.

Opening the message, he couldn’t ignore the shiver of excitement tingling down his spine. First there was a message from her:

**2:37 P.M.: Know ur mom’s trial starts today. Thought u’d need a distraction.**

Distracted was definitely the word he’d use to describe his reaction to the photo below. Lying on a textured white quilt on the small bed was his Mystery Girl. As he’d come to expect, her face wasn’t visible in the picture, hidden behind her exposed long legs. She was lying on her back, head away from the camera, legs artfully draped to disguise her center. It was impossible to tell whether she was wearing any underwear, but the care taken to ensure her shin blocked the view suggested that she was not. In fact, the only item of clothing visible was a satiny, dark robe, highlighting the fact that her legs were the centerpiece of the picture. Silky, mile-long, gorgeous legs. Legs he wanted wrapped around his waist, his shoulders. 

A car honked behind him, startling him out of his train of thought. It was then he noticed that he’d never actually made the turn into the underground parking area, he’d been that distracted. He needed to stop his thoughts immediately. There was no way he was walking into his mother’s capital murder trial sporting an erection.

He slid his car into one of the open spaces and found his way to the conference room where he met his mom, Thea, and Jean Loring. Jean quickly gave him a rundown of all they could expect this first day of trial. From the the defense’s theme of duress, to the opening statements, to the reactions she’d expect of Moira’s children at each step along the way, Jean exuded competence and an intimidating amount of dictatorial manipulation. Apparently, even though they were not on trial, the jury would pay attention to his and Thea’s reactions to the proceedings, and Jean had scripted what she wanted for them to do to engender sympathy. It was slightly insane, but he’d do anything to ensure Thea didn’t have to lose another parent.

Throughout her explanation, he could feel every fidget Thea made standing next to him, could sense her growing tension and fear. But, he could do nothing for her except to place his arm around her shoulders and tug her into a small hug. 

Finally, Jean turned her attention to their mother, giving her even further instructions, letting Oliver shift his focus onto comforting his little sister.

“Hey, Speedy. You okay?”

She scoffed at his question. “Am I okay? Well, let me see. My mother is on trial for murder, facing the death penalty. My stepfather took off. And my brother hasn’t been around through any of it. Leaving me alone. In a giant house. So no, Ollie. I’m not okay.” Her voice broke at the end, her eyes squinching in effort to hold back tears.

He wrapped her up in both arms and placed a light kiss on her forehead. “I know. I’m sorry, Speedy. I’ve been going crazy trying to handle things at the office and trying to process this in my own way, and I’ve not been doing a very good job. But, I should have been there for you. And I’m so sorry.”

She pushed closer into his chest and he tightened his arms around her, giving her whatever support he could in the moment. Finally after a moment’s hesitation, she clasped her arms around his back, returning his hug.

“It’s okay. Just don’t do it again.”

“I won’t,” he assured her.

They stood like that for a few minutes, until Jean dismissed them from the room and told them to be in Courtroom C ten minutes before the trial began. He directed her out of the room determined to find somewhere they could hide from the press while they waited. Luck being on his side, they found a small vending machine room behind an unlocked door that appeared to be forgotten by the rest of the world. And they waited.

An hour into the trial, both of them were exhausted and stressed. Their muscles taut, heads aching, it was an unmitigated relief when the court took a brief recess so that the attorneys could apparently duke out some point of contention in the judge’s chambers, away from the ears of the jury. The judge decreed deliberations would resume in twenty minutes’ time.

He and Thea retreated to their soda and chocolate bar haven. He fished out a few ones and they raided the offerings together, needing the comfort food to give them the strength to make it however long the trial lasted today. 

Having consumed their processed sugars and carbohydrates, Oliver felt the slow lull of food coma begin to wash over him. It had been a long time since he’d had this much sugar, he didn’t typically go for sweets since his return from the island, but this had seemed like a desperate times situation. Thea was apparently not feeling the same effects. She was pacing back and forth, back and forth, all the seven-foot span of the tiny room would accommodate. She was setting him on edge just watching her from his vantage point on the floor where he’d sat.

“C’mon, Thea. Sit down with me.”

“I can’t! I feel like if I stop moving, my heart will explode. It’s keeping me sane.”

He knew how she felt. Watching everything in the courtroom today, hearing all of the accusations and character assassinations the prosecution leveled at his mother had left him feeling slightly panicky, too. However, all of the places he’d been since the Gambit sunk had forced him to learn to rein in his emotions, to get them under control quickly or die. Thea hadn’t had such training, thank God, but it left her adrift in this situation. She needed a distraction.

A distraction!

“So, maybe you can help me figure out who my Mystery Girl is.”

Her head swung to meet his gaze and she immediately halted. “What?!”

“You heard me. I could use some help.” He shrugged his shoulders to convey a nonchalance he absolutely did not feel. Was bringing his baby sister into this really a good idea? She was like a bloodhound when it came to his romantic life. She’d nagged him about his Mystery Girl nonstop once she’d found out about her, and now he was openly inviting her to join in.

Looking at her again, he saw the panic fade from her eyes, replaced with the sharp, calculating gaze she’d inherited from their mother. This was exactly what she needed right now. A mystery to direct her energy on, to keep her mind occupied on figuring out the puzzle instead of their mother’s fate.

Decided, he pulled his phone from his pocket and opened Mystery Girl’s message feed. Beckoning Thea to sit next to him with a wave of his hand, he pulled up the bathtub picture that contained the only clue he’d received so far.

“I got this picture last night,” he began, tugging her hand so she sat down on his left. What a picture they made, the two Queen siblings sitting together on the hardwood floor at the courthouse. The press would have a field day if they found them, better not mention this to Jean.

He indicated the body wash or bubble bath bottle visible in the photo, “It’s the only clue I have so far. Every other picture has carefully left out personal details --”

“You mean except for all the sexy, sexy contents of her lingerie drawer,” she teased him, his face growing hot at her remark.

“Yeah. Uh. Except those, obviously.”

Smirking at him, she snatched the phone from his hand. She enlarged the picture, focusing on the bottle, but the letters were too blurry to make out the brand. He knew, he’d tried. If he wasn’t so embarrassed about this, he’d ask Felicity to do her digital magic and sharpen the image, but this was definitely not something he could take to his IT girl. Even if it was her in those pictures. _Especially_ if it was her.

She sighed in defeat. “It doesn’t look familiar to me. Sorry, Ollie.”

He ignored the dying of the sliver of hope he’d felt that he would get one step closer to solving her identity. It had been a long shot, but if anybody could recognize a specific brand, it would have been Thea. 

“That’s okay. I knew it wouldn’t be that easy. Even if you could tell me what it was, it’s not like she’s the only girl in the world who uses it, right?”

“That’s true.” Then Thea brightened. “But, just because _I_ don’t know it, doesn’t mean _someone_ doesn’t. I tend to shop at boutiques and high-end places. Your girl could be more down to earth. If she gets it from a regular store, like Target or Wal-mart or something, I wouldn’t know it --” she smiled. “--But Raisa would.”

“It won’t help me narrow it down anyway. Especially if she buys it at a non-specialty store. Thousands of women must use it.”

“A clue is a clue,” Thea muttered, fingers flying over his cell phone screen. “You can pair it up with other facts as they come together, but this way, at least you’ll have something to go off of.”

“What are you doing?”

“Sending it to myself. I’ll show it to Raisa tomorrow, tell her that you asked for my help in getting a gift for the girl you’re seeing, but that I don’t recognize what it is. She’ll be thrilled to help, especially if it’s for your love life.”

Thea was right, Raisa absolutely would love to help him in the romance department. It was a brilliant plan.

“You’re slightly scary in your genius. You know that, Speedy?”

She nodded. “And don’t you forget it. Plotting is my favorite pastime. Don’t give me a reason to direct my talents against you. Now let’s get back in there before Jean has our heads.”

She stood and offered her hand to help him up, like she could really assist all two hundred pounds of him off the ground, especially in heels. He humored her, placing his hand in hers and letting her pull as he got to his feet.

“Wouldn’t want to anger the beast,” he agreed. Slipping her arm in his, they made their way back to Courtroom C, both a little bit lighter than they’d left.

And who knew? Maybe by this time tomorrow he’d have one solid clue as to who his Mystery Girl was courtesy of his little sister.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: So, there you have it! Oliver's admitted to himself he's in love. Felicity has no idea what Oliver's up to with his strange behavior. The Computettes are putting the pieces of the stalker puzzle together. Oliver's not letting Mystery Girl go anywhere. And Thea's going to enlist Raisa's help to (hopefully) solve the Mystery Girl puzzle!
> 
> Next one's going to be BIG, ladies and gentlemen.
> 
> Don't forget to check out the [Pinterest page](https://www.pinterest.com/thebookjump1732/picture-perfect/) for this story to see the new picture! Also, come over to Tumblr to get Sneak Peeks and Update notifications about this story, and y'know, just to generally chat and mess around with me. I'm on there A LOT! (@thebookjumper). Come play!
> 
> Sorry again! Love you all for sticking with me!


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